


Christine Palmer’s strange two weeks with the astral projection of Stephen Strange

by Winxhelina



Series: The complicated, difficult and occasionally very romantic relationship between Dr. Stephen Strange and Dr. Christine Palmer [4]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Astral Projection, Awkward Flirting, Christine's POV, Dreams, F/M, Flirting, Funerals, Humor, Humour, Kissing, Love Confessions, Magic, Memories, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Thor is and awesome friend, studying magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14990663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winxhelina/pseuds/Winxhelina
Summary: Christine Palmer is just a doctor. She's not magical in the slightest. Really, she isn't. She's not an Avenger either. And yet, she finds herself with a huge magical secret sitting in her kitchen for two weeks. Things just get weirder and more magical from thereon.It started out as "Stretching out final moments" told through Christine's eyes, but grew into a much larger story of it's own.





	1. Day 1

It was insane. Christine was shaking, looking at Stephen. She had returned from the Sanctum a little less than an hour ago. She had felt relatively calm coming home and really, she had thought she would be fine. Except when she had washed up and gotten to bed, her feelings had once again taken over and she had burst out crying, hysterically. Unable to stop.

And then she had heard a voice.

Stephen’s voice.

At first she thought she had imagined it, but then Stephen had spoken again and she had to turn around to face him, to see if her eyes could confirm what her ears told her and sure enough, Stephen was there, floating in his ghostly form.

Really, nothing should surprise her at this point. She had seen Stephen’s ghost-like form before so really, why would it surprise her now that he was actually dead? Although apparently he was still not dead. It was just a magic thing, more odd and strange Stephen-y magic stuff.  And it was good really, Christine thought. She thought she could deal with it until Stephen explained it in more detail.

“I’m only dead from your perspective. From mine I still have about an hour left, I skipped forward in time to see – to see if you made it,” he said and Oh God how it hurt. In a really sweet way. He cared. Of course she had always thought that he cared, but to hear that she was what occupied his final dying thoughts, his last moments, it was something else. It warmed her heart to a degree that was hard to put in words. It also hurt, but at least now she knew. She wanted to hold him. Wanted to tell him it would be all right.

“You knew you would die?”

“Yes. I’m afraid there is no other way.”

God, how terrifying that must have been for him, to know he would die and know there was nothing to do to stop it. Of course normal people were sometimes in that situation too, but they didn’t usually know they only had an hour left, no one knew exactly how they’d die and knowing added an extra layer of terrifying to Stephen’s experience. It must have.

“None? None at all?! There has to be. ”

She couldn’t quite accept that there wasn’t. That there was nothing she could do to help him, to make it better. This helplessness regarding helping him wasn’t a new feeling for her, but it was still a terrible one.

“This is the only reality I found in which we eventually defeat Thanos, actually,” Stephen got up: “Damn, hold on a sec.”

She wasn’t sure who Thanos was. It rang a faint bell to her, but now didn’t seem like a good time to ask. Instead she followed his movements and watch him become stock still for a while before disappearing all together.

“Stephen?” she called out, quiet and fearful. Was he gone now? Was this it? Was that all she was going to get? Was this her entire goodbye? It couldn’t have been. Did she imagine the whole thing?

“Stephen?!” she called out louder. No. This couldn’t be it. Stephen couldn’t have gone to face his death (in the future for him, but in the past for her, apparently) like that. She hadn’t even told him anything meaningful.

“Come back!” she called, growing desperate: “Come back, Stephen! For a little while. You needn’t die yet. In fact – don’t die at all! Just keep the time still!”  God she was truly losing it, wasn’t she?

She burst into fresh tears, unsure what had just happened, unsure what was even real. And then Stephen flickered back into existence. He pressed his finger to her lips. She couldn’t feel it, but his presence alone was enough to silence her.

“Shh, I was worried that in talking to you I might have mucked up this timeline too. Gosh, I couldn’t handle another million of them now,” he sighed falling back to her bed. She wished he would stop saying those things so casually. She could not keep up. She needed time to catch up and she couldn’t, because all she was thinking about was the fact that he looked tired and sad and scared, even in this form. Astral Projection she thought it was called.

“But it seems to be fine. Still. Can you not tell anyone I told you any of this? Don’t speak of this. Just in case. The faith of the universe might depend on it."

"No pressure there, then,” she replied dryly.

Who would she tell? Who would believe her? Well, maybe Wong would. Or the remaining Avengers. So she decided his request was reasonable and tried to wrap her head around this. Stephen wasn’t a ghost. He was travelling forward in time to see if Christine was in the 50% who lived and – to say good bye? To have a few nice moments before his death? He hadn’t said as much, but she thought he must have. She tried to get closer to him, to comfort him, but it was all futile. She couldn’t touch him, but he seemed to notice his efforts. 

“I’m sorry, I know this is imperfect.” No, no, no. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be worried about _her. He_ was the one who was about to die. He had come here to seek solace and she would try anything to offer him comfort.

“It’s fine,” she lied. If Stephen spoke the truth that meant he had the short end of the stick here. If she existed then she would see Stephen again, but for him, he might not see her again, which made Christine momentarily doubt whether or not she actually existed. She tried to shake that feeling off, thinking that way would get her nowhere. Of course she existed. There was a small chance Stephen was a fragment of her imagination, although she was fairly certain he wasn’t, but the opposite couldn’t be true. Besides, Stephen wasn’t imagining her. He was looking into a possible future. But then what that made her? A possibility? This was all too difficult to wrap her head around.

“You’re shaking. Are you going into shock?”  She hadn’t even noticed she was shaking and forced herself to stop and to smile, to look up to him and appear reassuring as she spoke: “No, no, just a bit overemotional here.” She couldn’t be the one falling apart now. She needed to find a way to comfort him. Preferably with some kisses and hugs. If he really needed it, she wouldn’t be stingy. Besides, much as this was a terrible cliché, loosing Stephen had made Christine realize just how much she cared about him. She swallowed. She needed to focus.

“How come you can sit on the bed, but not touch me? What are the rules here?" 

Stephen snorted and that made her relax, if she could make him laugh, relax, that was the second best thing: “No idea. It’s all stupid. Larger objects seem to be - not moveable always, but I can interact with larger things to an extent.”

That didn’t help: “Isn’t there any way for us to...?”

“I think – I think if you were in your astral projection too. Maybe. I certainly fought some of them before. Haven’t tried hugging or kissing, but it should work. In theory.” 

And just like that, it was decided. She would put thoughts of her practice on the side. She would study magic after all. Wong would give her the books if she asked nicely.

It took some convincing Stephen, but eventually she convinced him to step ahead to the future two weeks from now. If Stephen had studied the art of Astral Projection in one week, she was convinced she could do it in two. True, she still had her day job, unlike Stephen had had and true, Stephen was a genius, but she was no dummy either. Stephen wouldn’t have dated her had she just been a pretty face to look at. Faulted as Stephen was, this wasn’t one of his vices. He had never been the sort of rich guy who dated pretty dumb models. He craved for a partner who could challenge him intellectually and Christine had always liked that Stephen had seen her as her equally intelligent, even if he sometimes was so caught up in his own ego he seemed to put her aside.

The whole thing would be easy for Stephen. Surely, two weeks would pass in an instant for him. It would be hard for Christine not to see him for two whole weeks, but she could handle it better now surely, knowing that she would see him again. _At least_ once, but probably more. She would also have her hands full with work and study so there would be hardly any time to miss Stephen. Yes, it was going to be a tough few weeks, but if that meant she could offer Stephen support, support him in his quest to save the universe, to face his death bravely, if she could do anything to support him, she would.

However, things didn't exactly went as Christine had expected. Once Christine had persuaded Stephen to skip ahead time and he had nodded, looked determined and gotten up, he had simply frozen, standing there, at the foot of Christine's bed. She wondered if he was having second thoughts. She smiled and said: "Go ahead."

There was no response, Stephen just stood there, looking like a statue. She frowned: "Stephen? Is everything okay?"

Still nothing. She could feel her heart-rate pick up:"Stephen?!"

No response.

"Stephen, what's wrong?!"

She sat down on her bed with a heavy sigh, unable to make heads or tails of the situation: "Talk to me. This isn't funny. You're scaring me."

Stephen didn't reply. He just stood there. He didn't look dead, but he didn't look alive either and that truly scared Christine. What if something had happened to his body and now all that was left was the outline of his - what was this anyways - his soul? Could he be dead? Was this it? Or was this how it was going to be? Stephen standing by her bed for an undetermined amount of time now? Or was he going to stand there for those two weeks? Or worse, what if she woke up in the morning and he would just be gone and wouldn't be back in two weeks?

"You really need to tell me the details," she complained, wondering if she should tell Wong about this anyway. She sat down on her bed and stared at Stephen for a while. She couldn't go to sleep like that, with Stephen staring at her with his eyes open, yet unfocused and unblinking. It was creepy. Besides if Stephen was going to disappear she wasn't going to miss it. If that was a possibility (and she didn't know for sure that it wasn't), she wasn't going to just leave him. She looked at him for a while, until it started to creep her out. 

"Stop this!" she shouted and threw a pillow at him: "You could have at least told me what was going to happen! As if the whole experience wasn't already confusing and scary enough for me as it is!" 

Christine didn't expect a response this time around and there wasn't one either. She got up to make her bed and climb under the blankets. She didn't think she could cry anymore so she just glared at Stephen, except that wasn't very fun when Stephen didn't react and she changed tactics again, dropping her eyes: "Please just be okay."

She sat back and sighed, no longer staring, but just occasionally glancing at Stephen, trying not to freak out by him standing there stock still. She couldn't imagine sleeping like that. It still freaked her out, especially not knowing what was going on. Stephen had told her he had visited over 14 million alternative futures, Christine couldn't imagine that. What if that had gotten to Stephen's psyche? He was still human. He had magical powers, but he was still the same Stephen in many ways, changed as he was. 

"Just come here. Just lay down and talk to me. It's fine," she told Stephen who was standing motionless and quiet. Christine watched him, although she didn't look him in the eyes anymore, too unnerved by his expression, only daring glances as she spoke. 

It was a while before Stephen replied and it caused Christine to jump: "Sorry, what?"

"Sorry, I was going to skip ahead two weeks. Like you wanted?" He looked at her, so innocent and honestly confused that it smoothed away most of her annoyance with him. 

"Ah. And all this time I'll have an unresponsive Stephen ghost standing by the foot of my bed?" she bit, just to let him know that she had been bothered by this more than a little.

"Oh." It was clear that how Christine might perceive him during this time had not occurred to Stephen at all and somehow, the look on his face, first utter confusion and then embarrassment as the whole situation dawned on him, greatly amused Christine and she softened her tone: "Yes. Oh. Listen, I don't mind, but by the bed is a bit creepy. Maybe you should wait it out in the kitchen or living room? Maybe go sit down somewhere. Look like your meditating?"

"What if you have people over?"

"Half of the universe is dead and I will be studying. No time to have guests." It seemed like a good enough excuse, she didn't need Stephen to know she had become an even greater workaholic since they had started to hang out less. There was no need to darken the mood with such harsh truths.

"All right," Stephen agreed: "I'll go sit in the kitchen. Talk to you in two weeks."

"Talk to you in two weeks," Christine agreed. 

That whole exchange felt a bit anticlimactic and Christine wondered if she should follow, but surely if Stephen was just going to sit there, in the kitchen, stock still and fast forward time, that would have been stupid. So she sat on her bed a little while longer, before deciding the best thing she could do was go to sleep.

She dreamt of Stephen that night. As the dream begun they were dancing in a large ballroom. She knew it was one of those important galas Stephen had often been invited to as a surgeon, yet as they danced they appeared to be completely by themselves. Stephen's hands were smooth, scar-free and sure of themselves as one of them slid over Christine's red silky dress material, teasingly, a little too flirtatiously for a public event. Yet Christine couldn't bring herself to mind and simply grinned at Stephen, rolling her eyes a bit. She rested her chin on Stephen's shoulder as they danced and his face too was clean-shaven and smooth. Even in her dreams she knew that was wrong. She pulled back and frowned, wondering what they were doing at this gala anyway. Stephen was no longer a surgeon. He was a sorcerer now. She was about to ask Stephen when he pulled her along, told her they needed to go. She thought maybe they were going to save the world, fight a demon or do some other otherworldly things, but Stephen just slipped into his expensive coat and held Christine's out for her. He seemed to be rich and well-off again. They walked away from the building the gala had taken place at (an opera house) and seemed to be headed towards Stephen's old flat. It was drizzling lightly, the kind of light rain Christine had always loved. 

"Are you back to your old self now? What happened? Did you turn back the time?" Christine asked, unable to keep quiet about her confusion. 

Stephen looked equally confused:"I've been as I always am, all evening," he pointed out charmingly.

They passed a beggar on the street and Christine dug into her coat pockets to find some loose change and throw it in the paper cup next to the man. Stephen looked at her disapprovingly in a way that rubbed Christine the wrong way entirely: "Now you've got a problem with me helping the poor?" she snapped.

"It's not the poor I have a problem with. I donate large sums to several charities. It's deceitful con artists. One look at this man and I could tell he was faking his injuries. I'm willing to bet 100 bucks that his faking it."

Christine felt stupid then, having been called out for having missed something obvious: "Everything isn't about you proving you're clever, Stephen," she snapped. 

"I'm sure you would have noticed it too, had you looked at him properly."

"Look who's talking. The man who doesn't even book a consultation with someone who's bank account doesn't have enough on it."

"What's the point of seeing them if they can't afford me?" Stephen bit back arrogantly. 

They had had this conversation before. Christine remembered it now. Word for word, it had all happened before. 

"Because sometimes, you should just help those in need!" she shouted, close to making a scene in public now.

"That man wasn't in need! He was a con artist!" Stephen argued.

"You don't know what he needed money for! Maybe he was desperate for something."

"For drugs, again, if you had just looked - the signs were all there!" 

"Well, that might not be his fault either, becoming an addict, you don't know what happened to him, so you have no right to judge him!"

"I'm not judging him, I'm just not throwing money at him to enable his drug addiction!"

Christine laughed, a cold laugh: "Yes, Stephen. Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you'll believe it, instead of the truth that you're just a cold cruel bastard," she didn't think to reflect on what calling Stephen, the man who clearly did love her, for all his faults, a cruel cold bastard, made her. 

It was apparent from Stephen's expression that Christine's words had hurt him, but he tried to hide it quickly: "Fine, maybe I am a cruel cold bastard, it's better than being a soft kind-hearted idiot who will always be disappointed in life and people because they are not as good as she wants them to be."

She smiled at him, a menacing cold and loveless smile: "You're right. I shouldn't care for jerks who will only hurt me." 

Stephen seemed to know he had played into her hand. He stopped walking down the street with her and nodded, admitting his defeat: "Perhaps." 

The rain had picked up a bit more and it made it seem a bit like Stephen was crying, but Christine still left him on the street, angry and fuming. How dare he agree with her like that? To not even have the decency to argue? To apologize? Did he not love her at all?

Even as Christine stormed down the wet cobblestone street she already knew how this all ended. Tomorrow there would be a lovely note with an even lovelier bouquet of flowers waiting for her at work, dark red roses, lush and full and she would eventually forgive him, because in the end, she had been in the wrong too, calling him such terrible words. Even in her sleep she suddenly remembered that this would be their last big fight before the one that broke them up for good. Or maybe this was the one. She couldn't remember. All she knew was that when she went to work the next day there would be beautiful roses. 

Except that when Christine got home, she was greeted by beautiful piano music. This she didn't remember. She stepped into the flat to find Stephen sitting by the grand piano Christine had never owned, looking at her most apologetically: "I didn't know you played," she said and woke up. There was piano music coming from her radio alarm clock that tried to wake her. That explained the strange scene she had just witnessed then. 

Slowly, memories of last night flooded into her mind and she sat up in an instant, looking around herself, but there was no astral projection Stephen to be found. Right. Kitchen. He had promised to go to the kitchen. The sun was already rising, but the room was still mostly dark, the haze of dreams still surrounded her and thinking of a ghostly astral projection in her kitchen rather made her feel weirdly uneasy. Christine sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

She wasn't sure if Stephen would be there, if the whole of last night wasn't just a weird hallucination, until she stepped into the kitchen. The sight of the man still startled her, even if Stephen looked rather peaceful and even beautiful, looking out of the window to the early morning light, as if admiring the sunrise. Christine wondered if he had turned away from her table so to never appear as if he was staring at her. The longer she kept looking at him, the more his presence felt warm and comforting. Stephen was looking at the sunrise, but his body was twisted in a way that couldn't be comfortable, in a pose that looked like he was about to turn and face her.  

"Good morning," Christine said and then immediately felt stupid when no reply came. Of course there would be no reply. Stephen couldn't hear him, he was speeding through time. Christine fully expected that Stephen was going to stay sitting there in that awkward pose for the next two weeks, except by the time she had made coffee and looked back, he had turned fully and was facing the kitchen.

"Stephen?" she asked gently, but there was no reply still.

"I dreamt of us tonight. Do you remember the argument we had about the beggar guy once?"

Her question was met with silence, although Stephen seemed to be looking at her general direction. She wondered if time simply move very fast for Stephen now? Was he still able to see things pass by him quickly? What would that feel like? Christine hoped he hadn't given Stephen another emotionally taxing task. That was the last thing she wanted to do. The whole point of this was to give her time to learn astral projection so she could comfort Stephen. If she was completely honest with herself, of course it would have comforted her too and despite her earlier reservations upon waking, the idea of Stephen's spirit sitting in the kitchen for two weeks was comforting too. It felt safe. She yawned, took a long sip of her coffee and got ready for work. She needed to swing by the Sanctum today, ask Wong for some books, hope he felt hospitable.

He didn't. Not really. He explained that with Master Stephen gone he was left to take care of everything and really he didn't have much time to lend out books.

"I promise I won't come pestering you every day. Do you need these books for yourself at the moment?"

"No, but we're not focusing on teaching new people at the moment."

"Good, that means other people won't need them either. I won't come to ask for your advice or words of wisdom I just need... to feel a bit closer to Stephen," that was possibly the most truthful statement she was able to give without speaking the whole truth, but she could tell from Wong's expression he didn't appreciate it so she quickly added:"I heard Stephen used it to study while he slept and with the recent events - I really do need more hours in a day," she tried and seeing Wong's skeptical gaze quickly added: "And I know you think I won't be able to do it and maybe I won't, but maybe I just need something to focus on when I'm at home..."

She trailed off, Wong was heading somewhere, it looked like he was picking out some books for her and she smiled at the sight. 

"You're not going to leave, before I give you something, are you?"

Christine grinned: "Nope." She figured she might have actually let it go had Wong really not agreed, she had had a long and hard day at work and she felt exhausted, but of course Stephen would have not let it go had she not even gotten the books, so there was a lot at stake. 

"I can see why Stephen likes you. You two are exactly the same, stubborn and determined."

Christine wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, but it made her feel warm inside and she smiled and nodded:"I'd like to think I'm a bit nicer, but thank you. So much."

Christine was beaming as she got home, she waved the books in front of Stephen's face, before she realized he wouldn't be able to catch that, so he set the books down on the desk in front of him.

"I told you I would get them!" she grinned, before going to boil herself some rice to eat, it was only then she realized she might actually be able to communicate with Stephen better through the written word. She grabbed a note-it from her desk, wrote "I told you I would get them :)" on it in big bold letters and stuck it on top of the books, feeling very achieved.

By the time Christine had finished making herself some rice with vegetables and sat down Stephen was looking at the books and smiling just the tiniest bit. She had thought that doing things and especially eating, while Stephen sat by the table, motionless, would feel creepy, but there was something companionable about it instead, especially as they were now, Stephen looking at the books she brought and smiling. He clearly still interacted with the world somewhat, although his movements were so slow she only noticed him moving if she did something else for a while and looked away. 

After a while she realized she was staring at Stephen and felt like _she_ was the one being creepy, so she averted her gaze to her food instead, sighing. It wasn't as good as the rice and vegetables at the vegan place she liked and Stephen hated. Maybe she would buy from them tomorrow? It wasn't as if Stephen was going to join in on the dinner in his current state. 

Christine decided she would leave the books where they were for the night, Stephen was still smiling at them (perhaps even a bit more widely now) as she cleaned up the dishes and decided to go to bed. She had had an exhausting day. Things at the hospital were still not settling, if anything, everything was getting worse. On the first day after the deaths, everything had felt as if in a state of emergency, adrenaline had kept people going, now it was morphing into something like a state of constant gloom and depression, many people were so grief-stricken or shellshocked by the events they couldn't work. So Christine had nearly ripped herself apart trying to give it her all to help. After all, she still had everyone, even Stephen, in his strange astral form. Still, any form of Stephen was better than no form. 

"You can look at the books for tonight," Christine told the nearly motionless man by her kitchen table:"I'm going to start on them tomorrow. It's late. I'm going to bed. Good night"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! It's a multi-chapter story! I know I am known for not being so good at finishing them, but I've really been feeling this series, so maybe with the help of some friendly commenters I can do it!


	2. Days 2 to 4

When Christine woke the next morning Stephen was still smiling down at the books, it might have seemed creepy to Christine had she felt more awake, but in that moment she was too tired to properly process anything. Instead she muttered a sleepy:"Good morning," and went to make coffee. 

She wanted more sleep. It was the weekend, but she still had work, she had agreed help out with the massive staff shortage they were experiencing. So she settled for the next best thing after sleep, coffee. She yawned and slid a cup towards Stephen, having made him one without thinking. She only realised her mistake once she sat down with her own mug:"With any luck you'll notice it by the late afternoon," she said, smiling at her own joke. 

Christine felt much better when she returned home that evening. She thought she could even squeeze in a few hours of solid study. She would eat first through. She had some lovely steamed rice from the vegan place and she was going to indulge. Maybe she'd start doing some introductory reading while she ate. She took the books where they laid in front of Stephen and put them next to where she was planning to set the table. Stephen had no longer been looking at the books, she noted. She didn't expect him to speak through, so she was glad she didn't drop her box of takeaway when Stephen asked:"Did you make me coffee?"

She turned to face him, surprised to hear him speak. She had honestly thought she would be faced with two weeks of absolute silence:"What? You're talking to me?"

"Yes. Did you make me coffee? In the morning before you left?"

Hearing him speak, watching him move, animatedly compared to his earlier stillness, was so heartwarming and it must have shown on her face, rather than the tinge of embarrassment she felt at the fact that she had simply forgotten Stephen wouldn't be having any coffee with her :"Oh. Yes. I was just kind of sleepy and I didn't think. You were there so..." she trailed off, trying not to blush. 

"Well, don't waste any of that takeaway on me. I don't like the way they make their hummus. Or steam their rice."

"You don't like their steamed rice, because it's  _steamed_  not fried," she teased. Stephen had a secret affection for junk food that he tried to keep in check, but he would always complain whenever Christine made things like steamed rice and vegetables. She felt some odd satisfaction at the fact that Stephen had noticed her eating the very thing they both knew he hated.

"Yes, well, I can't eat, so right now you'd just be ruining the furniture."

She laughed. God, it felt good to talk to someone outside of work, about something other than illnesses and medical conditions and general work-related chaos:"Yeah," she agreed and went to plate herself some of the food Stephen loathed:"You won't believe the day I've had," she told Stephen:"It's exhausting at the clinic. You know, with half the staff gone. A bit more actually. Many people can't seem to handle the situation," she explained, but as she turned to move towards the table she noticed Stephen had gone stock still again. She sighed. Oh well, maybe that was for the best, she needed to study if she wanted to get the hang off this astral projection thing. 

Studying did not prove to be an easy feat. Christine had clearly overestimated how fresh she felt after work. The words in the books made sense, more or less, for the first half an hour, but as time moved on Christine's head started to hurt and the she understood less and less. She got side-tracked reading other chapters that all seemed to make more sense than the ones Wong had hastily marked down for her or that seemed to be relevant to astral projection. She found herself daydreaming about what she would be able to do once she had the necessary skills. 

Then she was just dreaming. She found herself waking next to Stephen in a soft bed. The man was once again looking clean shaven and confident, even as he looked a tad sleepy in early morning light. She pressed her body against his, relishing in the solid warmth against him. She wasn't sure why it felt good to touch him, but it did. It didn't register as weird for her that Stephen was once again without his sorcerer-beard or even that there was no reason for them to be in bed together. Stephen smiled, his blue eyes looking vibrant in the morning light:"Christine," he said quietly and Christine reached out to kiss him.

"Christine!" Stephen repeated, shouting and that startled Christine awake. She was once again faced with Stephen's face, this time it was slightly transparent. The reality of the situation caught up with her:"Yes, what?!"

He smiled:"Go to bed. You need sleep."

His concern warmed her heart, even in her sleepy state. She smiled and nodded slowly as she got up: "Yes, Stephen. Thank you. Good night, Stephen." She gave him another glance and a warm smile as he wished her good night and then she slowly made her way to bed, falling into the soft sheets face first. 

She was ridiculously hopeful that Stephen would speak to him again the next morning and she even offered a bright:"Good morning!" as she walked into the kitchen, but Stephen said nothing in return. He was looking in the general direction of the kitchen through. 

Work was easier, some people had gotten over initial grief and shock and had returned to their posts, to help out and because Christine had been working so hard the previous few days they allowed her to go home earlier. So she still felt relatively energetic when she came home with another patch of takeaway food. This time she had gotten something less healthy and more along the lines of something Stephen would enjoy too, but Stephen was still quiet as she got home, so she got to studying. 

It was still hard, but she felt she really got into it better, felt like she was making progress, although she missed Stephen's help. She hadn't realised how much she relied on his knowledge in her magic studies. It was hard without her mentor.

At one point she looked up and noticed that Stephen was looking at her, actually looking at her, his expression was serious and his eyes were focused on where she studied. That made her feel less lonely and she smiled: "It's difficult without you," she admitted and held her breath for a moment as she expected a reply. There wasn't one, but Christine turned back to her studies with more enthusiasm than before, occasionally glancing at Stephen, happy to find he was still watching. It was still difficult and occasionally internet had no translation for the Sanskrit she couldn't decipher, but she felt determined and then, out of nowhere, Stephen said:"You don't have to do this, you know. It's fine."

Christine would have been angry, except Stephen's voice was so gentle and soft, she didn't find it in her, except then Stephen quietly said something that made her panic:"I should go."

 _No! No! No!_ She wanted to scream. Stephen couldn't leave! She had gotten so used to him in the past few days. She had almost forgotten that he was only sitting here, because he was prolonging his death, but now as she remembered it filled her with fresh dread. He couldn't leave. Not yet. She hadn't managed to comfort him yet and, if she was honest, his presence comforted her. She wasn't ready for him to leave. She didn't want him to go, unknown if he would truly return. He seemed to think he would, but that maybe wasn't good enough for her. Besides, she didn't want him to go face his death, not knowing if it was permanent. She wanted to shield him from that experience, even if she logically knew she couldn't, not for long. 

In her panic Christine snapped and glared at him: "Shut up."

And he did, which wasn't really what she wanted, but at least he didn't disappear.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said quietly after a while, when she had managed to calm herself a bit, but there was no reply. The silence started to bother her after a while. Stephen wasn't looking at her anymore, not at all, there was a sort of glazed distant look in his eyes now that told her he wasn't much aware of what was going on around him. She couldn't focus anymore properly after their exchange and went to bed soon after.

The horrid distant look was still in Stephen's eyes when Christine woke the next morning, she shuddered at the sight of it, there was something frightening about it, Stephen almost looked dead like that: "Are you getting back at me for telling you to shut up? You know I didn't mean it. You're being childish Stephen," she complained, but Stephen didn't reply, not that Christine expected him to. Having no opposition drained the fight from her instantly:"I just like it when you talk to me," she admitted quietly, before noticing the time. How was it this late already? Christine hurried to get ready for work and ran out without giving Stephen another glance. 

Christine brought one of the magic textbooks to work with her. She had planned to study during her lunch break, but there was barely enough time for a quick salad in a plastic box, let alone proper studying. She had the book open on her knees, as she shoved cherry tomatoes into her mouth, but she knew she was more likely to get dressing on the book than she was to learn anything. The break room wasn't quiet enough and there wasn't enough time to concentrate. Then, on top of it all, Nick came over to chat. He was wearing what Stephen had deemed his "obnoxiously loud" watch. She didn't think she would have otherwise noticed it's distinct ticking sounds, but as Stephen had relentlessly pointed them out time and time again, it was now the first thing he noticed as he approached her.

"Christine," he said and his voice was soft, but she could tell he was flirting with her, or at least intending to flirt, so she already looked annoyed as she looked up. She knew Nick wasn't by far the only man in the hospital interested, hell, she got advances from her patients at least once a month. However most of them were smart enough not to press her, even when she and Stephen hadn't been dating (not that they were dating now, well, maybe they were a little) she had made a point not to date anyone else in the hospital. 

"I heard about Stephen."  _Really? That was the route he was taking? 'I heard that your love interest died so in case you needed some consoling my shoulder and bed are available.' Did that ever work for anyone?_

 _"_ I'm very sorry." 

"Uh oh," Christine replied and felt a tiny bit of embarrassed about the fact that she hadn't been able to keep sarcasm out of her voice  _at all._

 _"_ I am! I know he hated me, but I didn't hate him!" 

"Oh, come on, Nick," Christine said in her best quit-your-bullshit tone. She wanted Nick to leave her to enjoy her meal and complex magic books in peace. 

"Okay, fine. Maybe I didn't like him, but you know what? Maybe it's for the best that he's gone."

"You went from "I'm sorry" to "It's for the best that he's dead" in under a minute. Impressive," she no longer bothered to hide her annoyance.

"Oh come on. You know what I mean, you get to move on."

"I don't. I really don't, because you seriously can't be suggesting that it's a good thing the world's most skilled neurosurgeon is dead."

" _Please._ He hasn't been that in years." 

"Yes, he's an Avenger now."

"Well, it's not like he was able to do much about half the universe dying, was he? Some superheros, they got half of the population killed." 

God, how Christine wanted to punch Nick. She had known he was a prick, but the extent of it truly shocked her. 

"Oh, get your head out of your arse, Nick. It's not like you did anything to save them either. Stephen does more good asleep than you do here daily," she snapped, grabbing her book and small salad and walked away. Maybe that had been a bit unfair to Nick, but he  _had_  been a prick and no one could blame her for her outburst. As far as they all knew she was still grieving.

* * *

 

A few co-workers invited Christine out to dinner after work:"You've been working so hard. We all need a break, to unwind a bit," Mary said, smiling knowingly. 

Christine put up a token effort to refuse, but she knew she could use a proper break as well. So eventually she agreed.

They went to the nice pub near the hospital, the atmosphere there was jovial, but not too loud, it almost served as an odd contrast to the rest of the world where people still struggled to come in terms with the reality of mass deaths.

"So I heard Nick was a slimy bastard to you earlier. Leah overheard," Mary commented, sipping on her glass of red cabernet sauvignon as they waited for their  meals. 

"What else is new?" Sandra asked sarcastically. 

Christine's eyes were locked onto the waitress carrying her plate of linguini:"I don't care about him," she said, waving her hand dismissively. 

"So Stephen really didn't make it then?" Sandra asked, her voice shy and soft, careful. 

Christine thought the question a bit odd, but maybe she was just paranoid, because she did have a Stephen projection in her kitchen. Would Stephen notice she took longer than usual today? Would he miss her? Worry about her?

"Christine?" Sandra asked softly and Christine realised she hadn't answered.

"Huh? Nope, he's dead. Completely dead," she replied, shoving pasta in her mouth and then realised by the way her colleagues stared at her that she had sounded way too nonchalant. She swallowed, trying to look serious and a bit mournful.

"Are you - how are you holding up?" Sandra asked gently.

"All right, I guess," Christine shrugged, trying to seem like she was grieving. She couldn't tell them the truth, she couldn't tell them that Stephen was currently sitting in her kitchen in his astral form or that she was studying magic just to be able to kiss him or even that she thought she had fallen for him, again, maybe, a bit, if she was honest. She was brought back from her thoughts by the argument going on at the table. 

"He's so patriotic it almost comes off seeming sarcastic," Mary insisted. 

"You only say that, because you're British. Steve is undoubtedly the hottest Avenger there is."

"Come on. His beard makes him look 20 years older."

"So what? 120 instead of 99?"

"You're making my case! How can you find him sexy if he's older than my grandfather?"

Christine rolled her eyes: "You're not seriously arguing over who's the hottest Avenger."

"Well, we all know who  _your_  favourite Avenger is," Mary teased: "Although I must say, I might agree. Stephen certainly pulls off a beard better than Steve."

Christine smiled and shrugged: "I can't be objective. I've only slept with one of them," she laughed. 

"You'd get it with Steve too if you wanted to," Mary said confidently. 

"You think?" Sandra asked in gentle confusion, that was so characteristic to the woman. She always seemed to speak in hushed tones and she sounded surprised at least half the times she spoke. 

"Sure. I mean look at Christine. Half the men at the clinic are interested in her. Why wouldn't Steve be? She can go there, looking all distressed and mournful, over the loss of her Avenger. It would practically be his duty to console her." 

Christine shook her head, laughing:"No, thank you. I'm fine with Stephen, but if you want I can ask him to set you two up."

Christine only realised her mistake when she noticed Sandra and Mary staring at her. God, she needed to go, before she messed up like that again. 

"Christine, Stephen's dead," Mary said seriously.

"I know, I just - wasn't thinking," Christine said. It wasn't a lie, but she hated the pitiful looks the two girls on the other side of the table gave her. Mary covered her hand with hers: "I'm sorry. He seemed like he was a great guy."

Christine laughed, bitterly:"No one actually thought that of Stephen." No one, but she anyways and she had had her doubts too. 

"Maybe, but everyone in the hospital knew he loved you," she said seriously. 

"You think?" Christine asked, unsure if Mary only said that because Stephen was dead. 

"Oh yeah, not a hint of doubt there. Whenever someone wanted him to take a case people would suggest they'd talk to you to get you to persuade him to take it. Besides, he did propose," Mary said and then winced as Sandra hissed and hit her under the table. 

Now it was Christine's turn to look confused:"Stephen never proposed to me..."

"Well yeah, but he was going to," Mary said as if that was common knowledge and Christine looked at Sandra expectantly, who was now suddenly very interested in her bowl of Tom Kha.

"He showed me the ring," she muttered, blushing at the table:"Said I would be the only one nice enough to give my honest opinion. Everyone else would just be jealous, because they could never get neither such an expensive ring, nor a brilliant woman like Dr. Palmer. That's what he said. He was so excited. Said he was going to propose to you at that gala you were going to go on. He said he was going to give you a present first, a Christian Dior dress so you wouldn't suspect anything. Not sure I followed the logic."

Christine remembered that dress, It stood in her closet now, doomed to be worn only at relative‘s weddings now that Stephen would no longer take him to lavish events. Alas she had worn it to France with him. If only had she known the dress would have reminded him of the night he had planned to propose.

"There was a ring?" Christine whispered. 

"Yes. It was beautiful. A custom design. He boasted about the designer having done wedding rings for British royalty or something. It did look beautiful and not at all lavish, I imagined you would have liked it. It was understated, yet stunning. Small blue sapphires surrounding a silvery band and a larger diamond in the middle. It was one of the prettiest rings I've ever seen."

At that point Mary was the one to hit Sandra under the table:"We get it, the ring was gorgeous. Just how bad are you trying to make her feel?"

Sandra sighed:"I'm sorry. I just always felt that it was kind of my fault that you two didn't get married."

"What? How was it your fault? Did you tell Stephen I would say no?!" she doubted Stephen would take her word for it, but she knew that deep down underneath all that arrogance laid a man who was always terrified of failing.

"God no! Of course not! I knew you'd had had a few rough patches, but no! But he was going to propose after his speech at the event and I said I thought that he should go for something more intimate, wait until you're alone, but then you had that fight over that beggar on your way back... and then you never really recovered. I thought he was going to do it when things got better, but you broke up with him a month afterwards and all I could think was that it was such a shame, for Stephen loved you so much, but you were so angry and you were right really. He wasn't a great guy, even if he did love you. So I thought it better not to say anything."

"Oh God," Christine whispered. She needed to go home. She needed to be with Stephen right away. Even if they couldn't talk. Or touch. She felt herself getting up. 

"Wait!" Sandra called: "I'm sorry, Christine. I am so sorry." 

"It's okay. It's fine. I just need to - I just need to go. I'll see you at work tomorrow," she said, grabbing her coat as she dashed out. 

"Great. Now I think you've managed to mess her up too," she heard Mary say: "We are short on staff as it is."

* * *

 

Stephen was still sitting by the table, stock still, but Christine still relaxed and smiled at the sight of him:"Hi... I'm sorry I took longer today. I promise I'll still study," she said, still waiting a moment for a possible reply.

There was none so she blurted:"Sandra said you wanted to propose to me. Back then," God it felt good to get that off her chest, even if he couldn't hear. 

"I can't believe a stupid beggar is what came between us getting married," she commented, getting out her books, neither expecting and nor getting a reply.

"I guess I'll never see the ring. You must have sold it off when you needed money to fix your hands," she mused out aloud: "Did you think of proposing to me again then? When you took it out of the box to pawn it? We were sort of together then. Or did you think I wouldn't want you without your money and wealth?" It was a possibility. She knew Stephen's self-worth was deeply linked to his talents, to his skills as a doctor as well as his intellect. Christine knew that his obsession with fixing his hands didn't just have to do with how much Stephen loved his job, but how he thought he was worthless when he would no longer be the best surgeon in his field. She had seen it up close, when they had been together. He had been so different, angry and hurt and insecure and even when he hadn't been angry and hurt, when she had managed to lift his spirits and banish them for brief moments the insecurity had remained. Their relationship, had been intimate, although not terribly sexual back then for very obvious reasons. They weren’t even together, not exactly. It’s just that they hadn’t also not not been together and sometimes they had – comforted one another. Stephen would have never thanked her in words, he was far too proud and as much as she would have liked to hear him speak words of awknowledgement, she never expected them. Stephen could say things in looks and touches though, in meaningul silences, in a gentle brush of lips against her skin. The few times they had had sex though he had been almost timid, still loving, but so much more hesitant and it hadn't been just the shaky hands. He had tried to feign his usual confidence and his arrogance had still made regular appearances, but he was different. If not elsewhere then behind closed doors. Not that he hadn't always been different behind closed doors.

"Did you throw your shirts at me?" Stephen suddenly asked, completely off topic. Well, maybe not entirely off topic considering Christine had just imagined them both naked. She looked confused at first, she looked at Stephen's face and then at the chair, where he was sitting and on which, one of her turquoise blouses lay also. She blushed with embarrassment: "Oh, yes. Sorry. I must have in a hurry in the morning."

She reached to pick it up and found her hand reach through Stephen's body in a very compromising manner: "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he looked a bit smug. She liked it.

She smiled:"Nick tried to flirt with me today, I blew him off," she said, but it was clear Stephen no longer heard her: "He was wearing that loudly ticking watch you hate," she added for good measure.

She laid out her books to study:"You know, I was happy with you. Back then. I was constantly worried and scared about you, but I was also happy. I thought we would stay together... I'm also happy now. Even if these circumstances are weird. Does that make me a bad person? The girls at worked looked at me as if I was loosing it. What do you think?"

She shook her head, speaking to herself was not about to help her case for sanity. Her time was better spent studying. So she studied. She thought she was actually getting the hang of the theoretical by now. One more day of reading about it and then she would be ready to try it out, she decided as she got up to go to bed. 

She glanced at Stephen:"I would have said yes, you know," she said, before leaving the room.

 


	3. Day 5 - old friends and new acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen might not speak much, but he is still very much the central topic on everyone's mind.

Stephen was still staring at the kitchen when Christine woke up. The sight of him no longer startled her, instead it brought a smile to her face:"Morning, my transparent friend," she said, yawning as she set to make tea.

"I think I'm going to start practising tomorrow for real," she told him. She still felt a bit silly talking to him like that, but he  _was_ there so in a way it also felt natural:"Not sure I´m ready, but I feel like I ought to start or I won't at all, you know?"

"I didn't dream of you tonight. I generally do recently. Think it means I'm getting used to having you around?" she asked expecting no answer, but always secretly hoping Stephen would speak at some point. 

She went to work having eaten some porridge, but not having said much else to Stephen.

The girls at work were all obviously surprised to see Christine at work, even those who had not been at their little outing the day before, but thankfully they knew better than to mention anything and Christine got to work in relative peace, as much as their was any peace in her line of work. 

Still, by the early afternoon it became apparent that gossip had reached beyond the ears of female staff and all of her male colleagues were now also aware of the fact that she had found out about Stephen's almost proposal. She could hear her name whispered by her friends and coworkers, she could see it in the pitiful glances they cast at her when they mistakenly thought she wouldn't notice.´ _Poor broken-hearted, Christine. Did you hear? She lost the love of her life.´_ she imagined them saying and snorted. This wasn't a Jane Austen novel. She hated it, loathed their poorly hidden pity. Little did they know, she still had Stephen with her, in an odd, but a good way. At least for a little more than a week, she tried not to think about what would happen afterwards.

Things took a turn from bad to worse when Martin Laurent, a frightfully young and nearly as intelligent shy doctor took to talking to Christine while she was stiching up little Stacey's knee.

"I heard about Stephen. Doctor Stephen Strange. I heard that he - didn't make it and that you were close."

Christine tried very hard to remain warm and friendly, it was easier with a young girl as his patient for whom she needed to keep up appearances:"We were," she admitted.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"We all lost someone. I'm sure you did too."

"My mother and sister. But we weren't that close."

Christine had nothing to say to that, so she didn't and Martin carried on:"Anyway, I've heard of him. I wish I could have worked with him. He sounds like - I think it would have been a great honour to work with him."

"It was," Christine agreed. 

"I have read many of his papers, but I would love to hear more about him. His work. I have done some very interesting discoveries based on his findings, stuff that I think Doctor Strange would have been very interested in and impressed by."

' _Oh wow,´_ Christine thought ´ _An ego big enough to match Stephen's.´_

 _"_ I was thinking," Martin continued:" That maybe we could discuss them over a cup of coffee."

"Discuss your work?" Christine asked, disbelieving, was this guy trying to flirt with her using his medical research or did he just want to show off or was there an honest need to discuss intellectual matters? She wouldn't have minded the latter except that she currently did enough heavy reading not to be interested in advance medical reasearch papers.

"And Doctor Strange's, why not? Although some of it is outdated by now."

"I see," Christine replied. Man this guy was full of himself. 

"And yours. I know you did some although your more impressive papers date back to when you worked and wrote them together with Doctor Strange."

What was that supposed to mean? That her recent stuff was crap? That she was useless as a medical reasearcher on her own? True, she had been less motivated without Stephen, or rather more motivated to investigate a different field with him, but Martin wasn't in a position to say anything about it. The man wasn't just arrogant. He was a straight up jerk. 

"So, what do you say?" Martin asked expectantly.

"Oh. To the coffee? I'm sorry. I'm going to have to decline, I'm terribly busy studying a different field for the time being." Not even a lie, technically. 

"We don't have to talk about medical research. I am quite knowledgeable on a wide variety of topics. We can talk about music, literature, poetry, cinema. We can even talk about ourselves."

 _Oh God, he was into her._ What had the rest of the staff told him? Be as much of a arrogant jerk around Christine as you possibly can? She loves that. Be as rude and unpleasant as you imagine, she really gets off on it.

"You're all done, sweetie," Christine told Stacey, looking up at her, smiling and rummaging her pockets for a lollipop that she knew was there, before she looked at Martin and smiled, trying not to look too annoyed:"I'm sorry, Martin. I'm not interested."

* * *

During the lunch hour Christine was hurriedly shoving quinoa salad into her mouth, when she heard footsteps approach her and stop in front of her:"Dr. Christine Palmer."

She looked up to be faced with a handsome young man:"Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Jonas Hilt.*"

Hilt, Hilt, Hilt, it rang a faint bell, but it was indeed so faint that she thought she might have just imagined it.

"I heard that - Doctor Stephen Strange was a casualty in the recent mass deaths and came to offer my condolences. I know you two were well acquainted," the stranger explained, holding out a bouquet of flowers for her.

"You got to be fucking kidding me," Christine sighed. Really? Another one?

Hilt seemed taken aback:"Excuse me?"

"Tell me, is there a hospital pool going on? Are you all taking bets which of you can fuck Stephen Strange's girlfriend first? I'm not a bloody price to win, not a fucking conquest for you to... conquer!" Christine snapped, filled with rage How dare they try and use the death of her (former) lover for their advantage like that? Had they no tact? They could at least try and make it less obvious, but three men in two days was absurd. 

Dr. Hilt looked at Christine in innocent confusion that only fuelled her anger: "I can assure you I have no intention or desire to engage in any sort of sexual activities with you."

"Oh really?" Christine asked, voice dripping with disbelief and scepticism:"You're not here to tell me that you heard about Stephen's death, to lie to me about how much you liked him, to offer me a shoulder to cry on or have a cup of coffee with me to talk about how much you  ** _loved and adored_** Stephen even though we both know you disliked him at best."

"I... eh. I wouldn't lie about liking Stephen. I did like him. He was a dear friend of mine."

Christine laughed, bitterly: "Stephen had no friends."

"Really? I am saddened to hear that. Was your relationship purely physical then?" 

Christine blushed scarlet:"That is none of your business!" 

"Of course not," Hilt agreed calmly:"I had only hoped he had found love. He would have so needed it."

"Hey! We did! He did! I did!" Who was this guy? 

Hilt smiled:"I'm glad to hear that. I am glad. I was under the impression that he cared for you deeply."

"Who are you?!" Christine asked, still annoyed. 

"I'm Doctor Jonas Hilt. I used to work with Stephen, back when we were much younger. We were friends, but we have drifted apart in recent years. I heard of his death through my colleagues and I decided to find you, you were the only friend of Stephen's I knew about."

"Oh," Christine looked away, embarrassed now: "I see. Actually, I imagine Stephen might have mentioned you a few times. I'm sorry for my earlier behaviour. It's been a rough week," she explained, now wondering what the man thought of him based on her actions. 

"Lots of potential suitors, I take it?"

"Yes," she sighed:"Far too many."

"Are you sure you didn't misinterpret their intentions?" Hilt teased.

Christine blushed:"Fairly certain." 

Hilt smirked:"I see why Stephen likes you. You have the same kind of confidence."

"Arrogance, you mean. Not really." How much more embarrassed could this man make her feel?

"I'm sorry about what I said. It's just - Stephen didn't make many friends in his profession," she amended. She already felt terrible about what she had said. What an awful thing to say. Imagine had Stephen heard  it. How terrible he'd feel. It was true, through. She didn't think Stephen had many friends if any. Colleagues, sure, co-workers, acquaintances, business partners, ex-girlfriends. Friends, not really. 

"I know. That's why I had to look you up. I was hoping you'd know when's the funeral."

Christine felt as if air had been knocked out of her lungs. Stephen's funeral. Of course, there would have to be one. But God, how could she go to his funeral? With him still sitting in her kitchen? And how could she not go if there was going to be one?"

"I - I - really don't know," she stammered:" I could - try and contact - his family. Someone - his relatives. They don't talk much, but I imagine they'd know."

Jonas nodded:"I figured there hadn't been one yet. You know, because there are so many funeral services right now, every chapel and place is booked and seeing as there are no bodies..."

"... There's not the usual hurry," she finished grimly.

"Yes. Anyway - would you let me know? I know we drifted far apart, but I'd like to know," Hilt said. 

"Yes! Yes, of course!" Christine agreed enthusiastically: "And I really am sorry for the way I acted."

"It is quite all right. And if you'd like to have that coffee and talk about Stephen..."

Christine smiled:"Thanks. What was he like? Back then?"

"Young. Idealist, filled with ambition and desire to change things."

Christine couldn't decide if that meant he had been different or mostly the same then:"Different?"

"Yes. The harshness of the world hadn't caught up with him back then, I think. He did a lot of volunteer work , helped out at the local hospital for free."

Christine couldn't imagine Stephen doing anything for free, but the thought of young Stephen helping the poor, it warmed her heart. She wished she had known sooner. The stupid fight over the beggar came to mind again. 

"But he changed with time. And fame. And fortune. We grew apart quite a bit, had our disagreements, although I still considered him a friend."

Christine smiled:"Yeah. I know exactly what's that like," she admitted. 

Hilt smiled too:"It was nice to meet you, Doctor Palmer. I wish it had been under better circumstances."

Christine felt emotionally exhausted when she got home. She sank to her chair opposite to Stephen and sighed:"I want to talk to you. I _need_ to talk to you. "

Stephen didn't reply. Christine groaned and hid her face into her hands:"I met your friend. Jonas Hilt. I didn't believe him at first. Said you didn't have friends, she paused:"I'm sorry."

She got up and set to make pasta. She decided she had eaten way too much takeaway food. She would make some carbonara sauce, she wondered if she had picked it, bcause it was Stephen's favourite and she felt quilty over having been unfair towards him.

"I need to call your mum I guess," she said, talking while she boiled the pasta:"Wonder if I still have the number. How am I supposed to go to your funeral, Stephen?" she asked, more herself than Stephen.

There was a part of her that wanted to plate some food out for Stephen, but it seemed silly and she thought he would tease him for it, not to mention it was a waste of food. She wondered if he had noticed what she had made. there were too many thoughts circling in her head and she decided to try and get her mind off Doctor Hilt and Stephen's funeral by studying, after all, she had meant to get some actual practice done. After all, it was too late now to call Stephen's relatives. She would do it tomorrow. 

Christine began to study while she ate, she reviewed her notes and moved on to new chapters. She felt like she had gotten over some block in her mind and things were starting to make more sense. She wondered if it was only a momentary fluke or if she was indeed starting to make sense of the basics of magic. She went to bed, hopeful that the following day's practice would go well, if a little sad that Stephen hadn't said a word all day.

When Christine next opened her eyes, she was met with blue skies and views of passing trees and forests. She was sitting in one of Stephen's expensive cabriolets. She had to admit she loved that car and had been a bit sad when he had been forced to sell it, not that she had said anything about it. She ran her hand over the light-toned leather seats and eyed the beautiful wooden dashboard with a lazy smile:"You're going over the speed limit," she murmured softly. 

"Only a little," Stephen said, equally gentle, but he slowed down none the less.

"I miss this," Christine said looking up at the sky:"Going on drives like that with you."

"What are you talking about? We're on a drive right now."

"No, Stephen," she sighed softly:"This is a dream." She had been good at lucid dreaming ever since she was a teenager. She had once been very interested in the realm of dreams. She wondered if that would help her in her magical studies. She had read something about the possibility of entering dreams in one of Wong's books.

He chuckled:"You're a strange woman, Christine."

"I'm not yours, Stephen," Christine teased and joked. 

She looked around. She remembered this time:"Are we going to the little cottage? The one near a beach?" she guessed.

"Of course," Stephen smiled:"Just for a day. I have to operate on Monday. You can stay though. If you'd like."

"I want you to stay with me," Christine complained, still soft and sleepy. She knew it was a fight she couldn't win, not even in a dream that she knew was a dream. 

"You know I can't. It's the CEO of Huawei's US office. He will pay me thousands."

"What's the point of having all that money if you can't have any time to spend with me?"

"It's not like you have loads of time in your hands either."

"I have time now. Stay with me. You never stay with me." Her complaints were met with silence. Then she noticed they had stopped, in the middle of the road, there were trees and forests all around.

"Why did we..." she started, but as she turned to look at Stephen she realised he was no longer there, just an empty driver's seat, leather warming in the sun. Christine closed her eyes to will dream-Stephen back to existence, but as she opened her eyes again Stephen still wasn't there. 

She didn't want to have this dream anymore. So she closed her eyes to wake up. She squeezed them shut tight for a moment, but she was still in the car when she opened them, alone, in the middle of nowhere, her friend and former lover having left him. She tried the car doors and finding them unlocked, she stepped outside and into the forest. Maybe Stephen was there? Her high heels dug into the soft ground. She thought she caught sight of a red cape in her peripheral vision and she followed it quickly. 

Stephen stood in the middle of the clearing, sunlight shining onto him as a dramatic spotlight and she ran towards him:"What are you doing, Stephen? We were supposed to go to the countryside."

"I'm sorry, Christine. I can't stay."

"What are you talking about? The surgery isn't until Monday," she said, but she already knew they weren't talking about the surgery anymore. She watched in horror as Stephen started to disappear, tiny flakes of ash flying into the wind as Christine panicked and Stephen stood, eerily calm and with a smile on his face as he disappeared, much in the same way as many of Christine's colleagues and patients had.

"No... stay for a little longer," she begged, but Stephen was already gone. 

Christine's bed was empty and cold as she woke. She ran her hand across the sheets, but no one was there.

"Stephen..." she whispered and jumped up, running to the kitchen. Irrational fear and panic had her heart in a tight grip. What if Stephen wasn't there? What if the kitchen was void of her ghostly astral companion? What if this whole dream had been some kind of message from Stephen? She breathed a sigh of relief that Stephen was still there. She supported herself with her hands on the table and took a deep breath:"Please don't leave me, Stephen. Don't leave. I can't deal with you being  _actually_ dead. I don't know what I'll do. What if you don't come back after all?"

She closed her eyes and tried to focus, tried to put everything she had read into practice. She needed to be with Stephen  _right now_ , but she was too worked up, too panicked to be able to concentrate. She knew that when all she could hear as she breathed was the sound of her own heart beating. She couldn't do it. She sighed and opened her eyes. It was still too early to wake up for good. It wasn't even 4 in the morning yet: "I'll go to bed. Don't go anywhere," she told Stephen and left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Jonas Hilt is a canon character from the comics. I spoilt myself researching him on Wiki, but honestly, my interpretation of him is very loose and I took artist liberties.
> 
> I have to stop kidding myself thinking I'll do this in a few chapters. I simply have too many ideas. I've upped the chapter count a bit. Next chapters will hopefully have more Stephen.


	4. Days 6 to 8

Christine felt exhausted in the morning as she got to work. Sure enough, the keen eyes of her co-workers noticed.

"Are you okay? You look dreadful!" Sally commented. 

"Yeah. Fine. Just had a nightmare."

"Yeah..." Sally echoed, as if she knew exactly what Christine meant, maybe she did:"You've been working for six days in a row. You need a break."

"Yeah. Maybe I do," Christine agreed. 

She really thought she needed a break when she had a row with Nick later that afternoon over a patient:"But you're wrong! The drug isn't just a cheaper alternative, it has more side-effects, especially for pregnant women such as Mrs. Evergreen. You can't comfortably recommend it."

"Mrs. Evergreen was more than a little happy to know there was a cheaper alternative. She struggles financially."

"Of course she was happy! No one ever reads the finer print!"

Nick stopped what he was doing and turned sharply to face Christine:"Do you doubt my competence as a doctor?" he asked seriously, if a little poisinously. 

Christine bit her lip, she didn't like confrontations like that, but Nick was wrong and that woman might suffer for it.

She had no chance to say anything, to phrase something that lied between politeness, indirectness and yet, the truth, before Nick said: "i would say you've been spending too much time with Stephen, but seeing he is dead I'm guessing you're just overworked."

That was so low for Nick that Christine didn't hesitate to say:"I'm guessing you're just butthurt I didn't agree to go out with you."

"I have no need for Stephen's hand-me-downs."

Christine felt tears rise in her eyes and her throat clench, so she quickly turned away and marched away, deeply offended and hurt. She couldn't wait to start her own practice. 

Christine called Stephen's mum over lunch. She couldn't do it while she was home on the off-chance that Stephen chose that moment to "come online" and overheard the conversation. She didn't know how he'd take it and she didn't want him to suffer any more than he already had. 

The conversation with Stephen's mum was - difficult and not just because she had lost a son, but more because she spoke so highly of her relationship with Stephen. How she had brought out the best in him and had been so good to him and how grateful she had been when Christine practically forced Stephen to communicate with his relatives, how she had supposedly brought him closer to his family (she really didn't think she had) and how sad she had been when they broke up. She then complained that Stephen had practically not spoken to her since then. In all of this she practically forgot to mention when the funeral was, but eventually Christine learned that she had two days to get ready for one of the most emotionally draining experiences of her life. She thanked Stephen's mother and finished the call quickly before she could launch into another rant about something. Then she called Hilt to inform him of what she'd learned.

Christine had a solid and quite late lunch after the phone call. She grabbed a tiny kebab box from one of the street vendors coming home, so she felt full when she got to her flat. She settled down on the sofa with her books, determined to practice. And yet, she was reluctant to, reading about all of those practices was one thing, but as she closed her eyes and tried to put them into work a strange fear or a feeling of unease overtook her that drove her back to the books, back to wanting to revise, make sure she had it all down correctly. She thought she was close to succeeding, but as she closed her eyes and focused, coming right at the edge of leaving her physical body, something stopped her. The idea of actually becoming a bodiless being was terrifying. What is she couldn't reverse it later? What if she would be stuck? She decided she needed to study more to keep that from happening.

There was a romantic movie on the telly that night titled the "Lake House". It was as if the Tv-guide had been designed to distract her especially. Who else, but her would find a film about two people living in different times, communicating, but never quite being able to be together, so relatable. And on top of it all Kate Forrester was a doctor! How much more relatable of a character could she be? It was captivating. Her eyes were glued to the screen more and more as the film went on, it was as if she sought to find answers or at least comfort and some relief to her loneliness.

Kate was waiting for Alex at the resturaunt. Would they finally be together? Christine was so immerged in the film she jumped when Stephen spoke: "You know you can just watch the film if you'd like." The sight of him washed away a terrible feeling of loneliness she hadn't realised she'd been feeling. She couldn't help, but smile at the sight of him: "No, no, I'm studying," she promised, feeling a bit caught out as she dropped her eyes to the books. 

"Watch the film. You deserve a break." He was so sweet and caring now. Why couldn't he be more like this when he was here all the way?

"I suppose it resonates with me," she admitted, finding it easy to be completely honest with him. She was yearning to be honest with someone, to have a real conversation. After all she had this huge secret she could share with no one. 

"What? The film?"

"Yes. It's about this couple. They live in a different time. Two years apart, but the guy was an architect and his dad built the house they both lived in. In different times. And now they communicated with this magical mail box. It's like a portal. Come watch it with me." She needed him by her side so bad she was ready to beg. Logically, she knew that him sitting near her would offer her no warmth or physical comfort, but she still needed it.

He smiled:"I think it might hit a little too close to home. I'll pass."

"Come on. At least pretend to watch it with me. Come sit with me and roll by it." 

Much to her relief Stephen got up and joined her by the sofa. She was ready to start an evening of chatting and film watching and she opened her mouth to speak:"I met your friend Hilt yesterday," she said, to catch his attention, but Stephen seemed to be miles away from her already. She sighed. She had told him to let it roll by after all:"I miss talking to you," she admitted. Still, she had to remind herself she was getting way more time with her dead boyfriend than anyone was supposed to get. Stephen was delaying his death for her, for himself too surely, but at least _with_ her. 

She could feel Stephen's eyes on her despite the fact that he clearly couldn't hear her:"You're supposed to look at the film, not me," she said, not looking at him, but smirking. At first it was distracting and she glanced at Stephen to see if he was still looking at him and he always was. Then it just felt comforting. 

The scene when Kate realised Alex had died in her arms was too much for her. She started to cry, tears streaming down her face until she started to sob hysterically. Why did this film have to be like that, punch her where it hurt? She looked over to Stephen for comfort, but his eyes were closed, the expression on his face was pained and it only served to make her feel worse: "What's wrong?" Was the movie too much for him too? Was he able to follow it when it moved that quickly? It had to be something else. She wanted to hug him, but knew she was too upset to even try astral projection right now so she turned back to her movie. Thankfully the ending of the film was a happy one, but Stephen still bore the same unhappy pained expression when she was done. She traced the outline of his face worriedly:"What's wrong, my love?"

Stephen didn't reply. 

She curled up by his side, trying to fit herself next to him on the sofa without falling through him too much:"Shall I stay with you tonight?" she offered. She knew Stephen would tease him when he noticed, but who cared? He would probably secretly like it. And she would like it. It would comfort her. She needed to be by his side. Despite the movie's happy ending she still felt heavy and sad inside and she hoped this would help. That it would keep dark thoughts of Stephen slipping away from him at bay, of having to attend his funeral the day after the next. So she cleaned up her books and washed up, before joining Stephen again.

"I can't do this," she whispered into the pillow:"I'm not a magician. Or a super genius like you. I'm a doctor. I'm not cut out for this," she buried her face into the cushion. 

It felt strange to sleep with Stephen like that. Whenever she closed her eyes and couldn't feel the comfort of a body next to hers she felt so alone. Yet when she opened her eyes and saw Stephen, with his eyes closed, lying next to her. she almost felt normal. She fell asleep when her lids got too heavy to look at Stephen. He was still there when she woke the next morning, there was a stiffness in Christine's body that came from sleeping on the sofa, but she still felt comforted by the fact that she didn't have to wake alone. She sat up and looked at Stephen. He was still wearing the same expression and she frowned at him:"What's wrong?" she asked again, leaned him and kissed his forehead, as if hoping that would wipe the look of discontent from his features. It didn't. Christine sat there for a long moment, staring at Stephen, thinking:"I love you," she said eventually, decisively as if she had reached an important decision, before getting up and ready for work. 

Seven days of working straight was clearly too much, but Christine was a dedicated medical professional. She didn't allow herself to make mistakes, studying magic was a hobby, important as it was right now she could always skip a day of study, she could not, however, afford mistakes at work. She was glad not to have seen Nick, although she wondered if he had taken her words into account. 

She was exhausted when she got home. She hadn't even bothered to get takeaway and she regretted it, she certainly didn't have the energy to make anything. Stephen was sitting in the kitchen again when she got home. She smiled, glad that he was no longer looking pained on the sofa:"God, I've felt like a zombie all day." 

She grabbed a chair and pulled it as close to Stephen as she could without being obvious:"I thought I'd study some basic general stuff today. Maybe I will feel more confident then," she told him. 

Studying chapters that she didn't need to practice in her self-arranged curriculum was nice. She didn't have to focus too hard, yet she also felt like she was still doing something that would get her closer to her goal. Stephen's gaze, once again focusing on her, was comforting. He seemed more present always when he had heard eyes open, but when she sat in one spot long enough, he would look at her, really look. It was comforting, albeit distracting. She found herself looking at him more and more often. She was exhausted, but the thought of sleeping in a bed all alone, wasn't inviting after a night of cuddling with his transparent weightless man on a sofa. So she found herself just looking at him, smiling, wondering if, when she would look long enough, he would smile back:"I love you," she told Stephen again, still staring and smiling at the man. And then, something  _truly_  magical happened, Stephen smiled back and it lit her heart with joy and made her heart beat faster.

* * *

 "I don't want to have this stupid car dream again," Christine told dream-Stephen with whom they were once again driving through some beautiful scenery. Stephen was wearing his driving gloves this time, hands caressing the wooden wheel. She couldn't handle another nightmare. She was terrified already. 

"It doesn't have to be a nightmare this time," dream Stephen said, apparently content with breaking the forth wall now. "It could be a wet dream if you're lucky," he smirked. 

"In a car? We've never had sex in your car."

"Doesn't mean you haven't thought about it." There was something different about this Stephen. It wasn't just the fact that he was fine acknowledging this was a dream. He had his funny wizard beard and although he was wearing regular clothes, he didn't feel like the Stephen Christine usually met in her dreams. Sure, he was arrogant as just illustrated by his comment, but he didn't feel like the surgeon Stephen. He felt more like current Stephen. 

"I don't want to. I'll just feel frustrated when I wake up."

She could hear her alarm clock through her sleep and she knew what it was, but somehow the illusion of the dream still didn't shatter. She groaned. God, she was tired.

"You need to take a day off. I think the past me is worried about you too." It was odd that Stephen called the him in the kitchen his past self. Christine frowned at his choice of words: "What do you mean past you?"

Stephen smirked and shrugged:"You said I could come if I wanted and I couldn't stay away."

Christine's eyes snapped open and for a moment she was fully awake, breathing heavily. It didn't feel like waking from a nightmare, but she felt just as alert "What the fuck, Stephen..." she muttered.:"Christine got out of bed, moving to the kitchen. By then she felt like a zombie, not even noticing that she was still in her underwear. The heaviness she felt seemed to clung to her very skin. She looked at Stephen and muttered:"I'm going to your funeral today." She was hungry due to the lack of dinner the night before and made porridge again. 

She only noticed she was in her underwear when she started to put her coat on. She squeaked and covered herself with a T-shirt quickly, looking at Stephen. He had the look of a man, who was decidedly trying not to look at a woman's breasts. Somehow that actually lightened her mood: "Like what you see? I can't entertain you. I need to go," she said getting dressed quickly, before walking up to him and kissing him gently on the cheek:"Have a nice day. You better still be here when I'm back."

Stephen's funeral was in the late afternoon, but Christine had still gone to work. They were short-staffed and honestly she didn't want to spend the whole morning thinking about the funeral. God forbid Stephen notice her lateness and suspect something. Although why should he? She had been at work seven days straight, if anything it was more suspicious that she didn't have a day off. 

Stephen's funeral was held at a small wooden chapel. Christine wore a black wide-brimmed hat and a black stylish coat over a dress of the same expected colour of mourning. She wasn't in mourning though. She felt like a liar, like the worst kind of wretched terrible liar. How could she pretend to mourn the man who was sitting in her kitchen? Body or no body. How could she look into the eyes of Stephen's parents and pretend their son would never return when she knew that at the very least there was hope? That if they wanted they could just come to her house and see their boy for a proper good-bye instead of saying it to an empty casket. Maybe Stephen and his parents weren't close, at all, but they had showed up and the weight of the secret Christine bore with her threatened to crush her. However, at least that meant that acting crushed came easy.

"The fate of the universe better depend on me keeping this a secret," Christine muttered. 

To call it a small service would have been kind, but the truth was that Christine was severely struck by how few people there were. Couple of Christine's coworkers had asked Christine if she'd like them for moral support, but she had turned them down, thinking that only people who actually liked and cared for Stephen should be there and she knew they hadn't really cared for him. 

Stephen had saved so many lives in his life, no matter whether the motives were selfish or not he deserved better than this. His mum and dad, Hilt, another doctor who Christine vaguely recognized and - was that Thor? Christine's eyes widened. The actual literal God of Thunder seemed as out of place at this place as she felt. How did he explain this to Stephen's parents? She was fairly certain they didn't know Stephen was a sorcerer. Then again, no one, God or not, had to have an explanation as to why they were attending a funeral. Christine made a mental note to vote for Thor the next time the topic of the hottest Avenger came up with her coworkers. Thor definitely looked handsome, if a little bit comical in his outfit. Still, she had seen what Stephen wore daily and had learned to keep her expression neutral. 

Stephen's mum seemed delighted to see her, pulling her into a hug almost as soon as she saw her: "Christine! I'm so glad you came!" she lowered her voice and whispered:"I didn't know Stephen knew The Avengers."

Christine smiled:"I sort of had and idea," she admitted playfully. 

"What an honour! Did he do surgery on him? You don't imagine Gods needing surgery, do you? Do they have the same biology as humans?" she wondered in a whisper. 

Stephen's father wasn't really as happy to see Christine. In fact he made a scene almost at the next moment and even though there was hardly anyone to see it made Christine feel incredibly uncomfortable:"Karen, why did you invite that wretched woman!?"

"Oh, be nice. Stephen would want her here!" 

"That leech?! She was only ever with him for his money! She bought her every luxury item, gave her all any woman could ask, security, money, car, home, he would have given children had she wanted! But no! Not interested in children that selfish woman! Only money and career!"

Christine didn't bother pointing out that it was generally the woman doing the giving children, or that Stephen didn't want children (at least he hadn't yet), or that out of the two of them Stephen had been the more career driven and selfish. She knew how he felt about him. 

"Howard, be decent! You know what Stevie can be like. He's rash and..." Stephen's mother tried to soothe her husband. 

"Rash? What is there rash about the boy?! Did he ever lay a finger on you, Christine!? Did he ever hurt you? Ever hit you?"

Christine hoped she wasn't expected to answer, but it seemed like she was,as Stephen's father grabbed her shoulders and shook her:"Did he?!"

"No, he did not," Christine conceded, because for all Stephen's faults he had not been a violent man. She could hear heavy footsteps approaching and see a blond strongly-built man approaching from the corner of her eye and _Oh God,_ the only thing that could possibly make this any more embarrassing was Thor coming to sort out a fight between her and Stephen's father. 

"Did he ever drink like a beast? Come home drunk? Did he ever cheat on you with other women?!" 

There was a heavy hand on Harold's shoulder that seemed to shut him up:"Thou shall not bother The Lady Sorcerer, ignorant little human." the powerful voice of the God of Thunder boomed.

Just when Christine thought things couldn't get any more awkward Thor had called her "The Lady Sorcerer" Christine wondered why that was? Simply because she hung around Stephen? But she had never met Thor before! Had she been hanging around Stephen so much that magic had begun to rub off on her? Did Thor simply refer to the fact that she was (technically) his girlfriend? Or could he already tell that she'd been practicing magic? Was there a way to tell?

"This is no lady! She's a leech. A witch more likely! If anything she put a spell on my boy!" Harold cried, apparently not at all confused by Christine being referred to as "The Lady Sorcerer".

"You throw around serious accusations you do not understand, human!" 

"It's fine, Thor. I really should go," Christine said and took her opportunity to break free of Howard's loosened grip and run out of the chapel:"I'm sorry, Karen," she said sincerely before running off, hearing the cries of Stephen's mum behind her. 

She ran outside the chapel where light rain was drizzling and the skies were dark with storm clouds. She wondered if they were just normal clouds of if they had anything to do with Thor's presence. The said God of Thunder had followed Christine outside. 

"Come back inside, Lady Sorcerer. Defy this foolish human who has offended your honour," he said, sounding all proud and warrior-like and every bit what Christine had imagined a God of Thunder to sound like."

Christine didn't feel like defying anyone. She felt like crying with the skies. As if this whole experience wasn't terrible enough Stephen's father had been so terrible. She knew the man didn't like her and she knew he was mourning and in great pain, but to call her leech and say so many awful things.

Thor was standing next to Christine, his mighty and ridiculous cape flowing in the wind of what felt like an upcoming storm. It reminded Christine of Stephen's cloak. She wondered if Thor's was sentient too. 

"You put no Love Spell on The Wizard. You deserve to mourn his death on the battlefield in peace! You deserve to drink mead and celebrate his life!" Thor assured and his words were comforting, apparently even though Thor thought she was a sorcerer, he didn't think she would be a bad one.

Christine smiled:"Humans don't really drink much mead these days," she pointed out, unsure what else to say. She found she still sounded a bit shaken up and she startled and jumped a bit when Thor's heavy, yet gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder:"You Midgardians don't really seem to celebrate The Wizard's life with necessary flair. Where are the drinks? The food? The people?"

"Not that many people liked Stephen," Christine admitted. 

"Really? He seemed like a fine wizard to me. Although I would not have surrendered to the Titan, I would have fought to the death. I would rather fight to the honourble death than to give in. It was a foolish act that brought destruction to us, but I suppose he was trying to save Stark's life. Are the people of Midgard mad at him for giving up the stone? I would have imagined his death to inspire a greater celebration of his life."

"There have been too many deaths to celebrate everyone's lives deservingly," Christine thought, not bothering that no one here knew about Stephen giving up the stone. Hell, she didn't exactly know what Thor was on about and she was Stephen's girlfriend. 

"Agreed," Thor said quietly and they fell into silence. 

"Did you knew Stephen well?"

"We met a few times. I liked some of his spells. The Captain thought one of us should attend his funeral. Tony Stark is still mad at him. He doesn't understand his actions. Neither do I, completely, but he fought besides us and died on the battlefield. Stark said he saw all these futures, perhaps he thought we missed our only chance. Stark has no understanding of magic or time."

Christine smiled. It felt good to talk to someone with whom she didn't feel like she had to hide entire worlds from, someone who knew about Stephen and his powers: "Stephen told me about the futures..." she admitted, before she could stop herself. Thor didn't seem to find it odd though. 

"We still plan on fighting Thanos. Even if there is no chance for us. We will die an honourble death if we most. Will you join us on our quest, Lady Sorcerer?" 

Christine smiled, humoured:"I am no sorceror, Thor. I am a doctor, like Stephen." 

"You may be a doctor, but magic also flows in your veins. It is part of you and you have the sort of knowledge no regular human on Midgard has. You are already busy practicing magic." 

Christine blushed:"Only a little."

"There is no such thing as being a little bit of a sorcerer. You do not flinch away or turn your gaze in fear at the sight of Gods. You would make a fine warrior, Lady Sorcerer."

Christine had no interest in being a fine warrior. Soldiers and doctors may have lot in common in a sense that they saw a lot of death and fought for people's lives, but Christine knew she was no soldier still: "Please, call me Christine." 

Thor smiled, a friendly companionable warm smile that inspired trust in Christine: "Come. Let's forget these foolish humans and their sad excuse of a funeral. Let us celebrate the life of your Wizard the way he deserves. Or is he indeed a coward and a failure as Tony Stark claims?"

"He is no such a thing! Stephen may have his faults, but coward he is not!" Christine said defiantly and was surprised by the strength in her voice as well as the fact that she seemed to have subconsciously picked up some of Thor's speech mannerisms. 

Thor seemed pleased, smiling again:"See? A mighty warrior is in you, woman! One that longs to protect your home and loved ones!"

It was true that Christine did want that, she had just never associated it with her being a mighty warrior.

As they turned to leave Christine noticed that Dr. Hilt had appeared, standing timidly away from Christine and Thor. She understood now what Thor had meant about humans turning away their gaze, but surely she was human too? Thor was wrong about her being a sorcerer. And what about Stephen? Wasn't he both a human and a sorcerer?

"Thor and I are going to celebrate... Stephen's life. Would you like to join us? I'm sure you've got many cool stories I'd like to hear from when he was younger!" Christine offered, a warm smile on her lips, trying to seem welcoming.

"You're going to have drinks with a God? That's brave, Christine. I think I'll pass."

Christine didn't really get what the big deal was about. Sure, Thor was a famous Avenger and stuff and she supposed he was a God, but it wasn't the sort of God people had in mind when they prayed, was it? He wasn't a Christian God that people in America most referred to, but Christine supposed once there had been people who had prayed to Thor. Had he answered their prayers? Christine didn't think she really believed in God, but she had prayed sometimes. As a child of course and in her darker hours. She had prayed that Stephen would be all right after his accident. Prayed and prayed and prayed, but she didn't think no one had answered. 

"Worry not about these little humans. They don't know what they are talking about, Sorceress Christine," Thor said who seemed to notice her distress. 

"I was not thinking about that, I was thinking about... well, Gods really."

"What of us?"

Christine sincerely hoped that she wasn't included in the "us" this time, Sorceress she could live with, God, not so much:"Did - Are you the Thor that people once prayed to? Like Vikings and stuff, did people pray for you?" 

"Yes, they did. I rather miss it. I think my brother Loki missed it even more. Maybe that's why he went with the whole business in New York, partially at least. He did always like attention."

Christine rather vividly remembered the whole business with Loki. It had been awful and yet she was sincere in her concern when she asked:"Did? Did he not survive the battle either?"

"I am afraid my brother was killed rather early on in the whole affair." 

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry," Christine said and once again she was completely sincere in her compassion. Thor seemed like such a nice and friendly guy. He didn't deserve to loose his brother, even a horrible brother who had tried to take over Earth. She felt sad over Loki's death. God, maybe there was something seriously wrong with her. 

"You are a compassionate woman, Sorceress Christine. Not many would offer their condolences. My brother was not well liked, but he was my brother none the less and I will always see him as such even if I can not always trust him." 

"Eh, I know what you mean. Stephen was not well liked either and I often distrusted him, but regardless of that I have feelings that go very deep for him that I may deny, but that are undoubtedly there."

"Your Wizard I think, did not try to overtake Midgard."

Christine smiled:"No, but he did think himself above everyone else when he was a doctor."

"He calls himself a doctor still."

"He is a doctor still. You can't not become a doctor once you are one. It's just that he is changed now." 

Thor and Christine walked into a bar and she could feel all eyes on her, or rather on Thor as they entered:"I am unsure my brother will ever change. There have been too many centuries, over a millenia yet every time he says he is changed I can not help, but want to believe him. We have been together since we were children. I know there is good in him. He did save my life on that ship and tried to kill Thanos, even if it was at a terrible cost."

"I know exactly what that's like. Stephen did tell me many times that things would be different that I should give him another chance and while it was difficult to do, it was even harder not to. To at least be friends, if not lovers. The last time, before he became a sorcerer I only managed to deny him, because he sent me letters and emails and we did not have to talk face to face," Christine found it a bit disconcerting that she found so many similarities between Loki and Stephen.

"Do you think it's odd that I relate to the things you say about your brother when it comes to my boyfriend?" Christine asked as they sat down by a quiet small round table. She leaned over the table and watched Thor keenly with an amused smile. 

"Not at all. They did both give up an Infinity Stone to Thanos. And After all Loki too was a sorcerer of sorts."

"I had not thought of that at all. But well, he was a God."

"Yes, that he was, but Gods are not that drastically different from humans. We are much older, sometimes much wiser, but we have the same feelings and some of the weaknesses."

"I'm beginning to see that," Christine admitted:"If even your brother, a God was not safe, how could my Stephen ever have a chance?"

"Your Stephen was a powerful Sorcerer. With his Infinity Stone he would have been an easy match for my brother. Indeed our fight would have been more easily won."

"You're seriously suggesting Stephen could have beaten a God?" Christine asked, disbelieving. Then again, she had seen the extent of Stephen's powers. Why not?

"Of course, with his Infinity Stone it would have been a manageable task at least."

Christine wasn't sure what an Infinity Stone was, but she made a mental note to try and look it up: "Ah, the good old days when we only had your brother trying to take over Earth. Those were the days," Christine joked. 

"Yes," Thor agreed:"Thanos is not so easily defeated. If he can be defeated at all. He has endless power with the Infinity Stones and has already wiped out half of all life on universe." 

Christine's eyes widened:"All life in the universe?"

"Yes. All known places with life."

Christine shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. The world suddenly seemed an even darker and bleaker a place than it had a moment ago and she and Thor shared a moment of silence for all the lives lost:"Yes, Well, I think I would much prefer a attention-starved crazy God to a guy who turns half the universe to dust for no good reason," she said, trying to lighten the mood, but her tone still sounded hollow:"No offense." 

"None taken. I would much prefer my brother to still be alive, trying to overtake Midgard. He has been dead before, of course, so there is a part of me that hopes that maybe this time too he will pop out of somewhere and against all odds, be alive."

Christine sighed a huge sigh of relief and smiled:"I am so glad to hear you say that, because..."

She came to a halt when she felt like she was being watched and sure enough, as she turned to look there was a timid looking waitress standing next to them, she was clearly afraid, her eyes moving from Thor to Christine unsurely as she handed out some menus:"C-can I interest you in our daily special?"

"Sure," Christine said, before she realized from the expression on the woman's face that reading out the daily specials to a God of Thunder and her friend was the last thing she wanted to do. It worried Christine a bit. She wasn't afraid of Thor, but everyone else kind of seemed wary of him even through he was clearly a nice friendly guy. Was Christine supposed to feel some inherent fear just being around Thor? She had a feeling other people felt that way. Was it true that she was something different than them? Thor had said that there was magic flowing in her veins. Was that true? Was she changing somehow, biologically?

While Christine was having her identity crisis, the nervous waitress was reading out the daily special, clearly worried that "Caesar Salad with King Prawns" was somehow bound to anger the God sitting at the table she had to serve.

"We'll have some of your best mead."

"W- we- we don't serve mead," the woman stuttered, nervously. 

"Told you," Christine said dryly. 

"Then ale. You have ale, don't you?"

"Yes!" the woman cried brightly, clearly relieved. 

"We'll have two steins of ale."

"Mugs. He means big large mugs of beer," Christine offered helpfully. Thor had been on Earth for ages. Surely he knew this stuff, so why did he insist on his weird way of speaking and "steins of ale"? 

The waitress nodded and was ready to rush off when Christine added:"I'll take the vegetable burger and large fries, please as well."

There was a nod and then the waitress left and Christine continued her earlier statement:"I'm so glad to hear you say that, because I keep hoping so bad that Stephen will be back to me and if I told anyone else they'd thought I was insane, so I have no one to talk to."

Thor nodded:"I understand and Stephen was a powerful wizard. Gods and wizards can live for thousands of years and yet we are mortals too. We must accept that they never might come back. After all I'm not sure how Loki could have survived having his neck broken."

Christine winced compassionately. She wished that she could say something comforting, tell Thor about the astral projection in her room, but she had promised Stephen she would keep quiet. Something else caught her attention:"Wizards can live for thousands of years?"

"Of course, as I understand the Sorcerer who guarded Earth before Strange was hundreds of years old."

Christine's eyes widened:"But Stephen wouldn't live that long, would he?"

Thor shrugged:"I don't know, but I imagine he might have."

"Wow," Christine fell against her chair as ridiculously large beer mugs were brought to the table. Christine could barely lift it. She took a large swig, trying to process what she had just heard. She didn't even like beer, but it seemed like a fitting drink to drink with Thor. The huge mug seemed to be comfortably sized for him:"Then, I will die long before him..." even though her spending the rest of her life without Stephen was still a very real possibility, the thought of Stephen living years and years, centuries without her, Stephen didn't have that many friends besides her, Hilt she supposed, but he would be dead too, was terrifying. He was going to be all alone. 

"Not necessarily. For one thing - for now he is the one dead. You might be the one living centuries without your partner Sorceress Christine."

Christine's burger arrived and she decided to tackle the task of cutting it up while also confronting Thor's misconceptions about her: "I am no sorceress. I read Stephen's books about magic and I try to practice it, but I can't do it."

"That doesn't mean the magic isn't in you," Thor said softly:"I grew up with magic and it took me a long time and lot of practice to master it. How old are you?"

"32," Christine replied. 

"See? I am over 1500 years old and I only recently discovered the true extent of my own powers. That my magic was never in my hammer. It was in me the whole time. You must come to the same conclusion, all of the magic is in you, Sorceress Christine. You just have to believe in it. Have confidence! Have faith! You can do it!"

Christine smiled brightly, Thor's words of encouragement were inspiring and for a moment she felt like maybe Thor was right. Maybe she could be a sorceress if only she wanted:"I am only a human."

"Doesn't matter, you only need to realize the magic is there for it to be there." 

Christine smiled and drank her beer and ate her food. Thor was nice to talk to, she could tell him about her magic studies and Stephen and how much she liked him and everything else. Everything besides the astral Stephen in her kitchen. When her beer was finished she ordered some cocktails. Thor was originally skeptical of them, but Christine smiled cleverly:"They're much stronger than your ale," she said, handing one pink drink over to Thor, who drank it after a moment's hesitation. 

"It's sweet, but good," Thor decided. 

Christine grinned, pleased:"So anyways, I was out with my coworkers and they were saying that Steve Rogers is the hottest Avenger, but I said - well obviously Stephen - I said Stephen, but now, next time ... next time - I think I'll still say Stephen, but... do you think it's sexist that we ranked them. I think it was sexist," she explained. She was having trouble keeping track of her thoughts. 

Thor smiled:"I think you are drunk, Sorceress."

Christine hummed in agreement and pulled herself up from her chair:"Yeah. I am no sorceress. I should go home. Practice."

"You should sleep and hopefully find some of that magic in you. You are a sorceress. You have the magic."

Christine shook her head and smiled:"I'm just a doctor. I can't do any of it. I read Stephen's books and I do understand them. I know what I'm supposed to do. See," she raised her hands in front of herself, swaying lightly:"You're supposed to move them.. like this. It's like a dance and like a martial art. It's very pretty. See you put your fingers like that... kind of... but that is of course not the point, because as you say it's thoughts and stuff. So basically, you concentrate and.... ," Christine paused, closed her eyes, tried to concentrate her hazy mind: "Then this is supposed to happen," she pulled her hands apart and golden rules appeared in a small fragile circle:"See, except it won't happen..." Christine stared at the circle of runes she had created for a moment, dizzy and disbelieving. Then she fell, hitting the chair, but landing on the floor instead. The circle of runes still stood in the air. She looked at Thor. There was a mad grin on his face. 

"You were saying, Sorceress?"

"I'm a sorceress," Christine said quietly, sobering realization coming to her slowly. 

"You're a sorceress!" Thor cried, his loud voice echoing the walls of the bar and drawing everyone's attention on them. 

"I'm a sorceress!" Christine cried, uncaring of the looks people were giving her as she struggled to get up:"You sure you didn't do this?"

"All you. It was all within you, Sorceress Christine!" 

"I'm a sorceress!" Christine cried again, laughing and happy. 

"I think we need to get you home now, Sorceress," Thor said, coming to wrap an arm around Christine as he gently started to guide her out of the bar.

"Wa-wait! We need to pay!" she remembered and got out her wallet.

"I'm a sorceress," she repeated in awe as Thor helped her to some fresh air moments later:"Just like Stephen. Well, kind of like Stephen," she looked at Thor next to her and smiled:"I'm going to stay by Stephen's side forever. I love him. I love him more than anything in the entire world."

Thor smiled, a sad smile:"He is still dead, Sorceress Christine." 

"But if he isn't? I had a dream about him tonight that was a bit different than all the rest. And I have read that one can travel through dreams in their astral form. Do you think it could be so, Thor? That even if Stephen is dead his soul will be with me in my dreams? Or something?"

"It is very possible. Everything is possible," Thor said seriously:"But Thanos didn't just kill him. He wiped him out of existence." 

"He didn't."

"Yes he did, Sorceress." 

"No he didn't. If he truly and well had we wouldn't remember him. But we all remember them so they still exist, one way or another," Christine hoped she was making sense. She looked at Thor who seemed thoughtful:"Maybe," he conceded:"Maybe he is just dead then."

Christine was still looking at him, smiling:"Nice heterochromia."

"What?"

"Your eyes. They are different colours," she slurred dreamily:"It's called hetereochromia."

"Oh. One of those eyes are not mine. I got it from a rabbit."

Christine laughed:"A rabbit?"

"Yes."

"Why did he give you his eye?"

"Not his. He stole it from someone."

"Ah," Christine got serious for a moment, she looked down at the pavement: "Can you call me when I'm sober? I have important things I need to tell you."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

Christine nodded and looked for her wallet, after some searching she found what she was looking for, her card. She handed it to Thor:"I can't help you fight Thanos, but if any of you - any supehero, any Avenger, ever need medical attention. Come to me. I know you are Gods and such, but you can get hurt and when you get hurt you can't go to a hospital here on Earth. So come to me instead when you're here. I'll help."

"Okay," Thor agreed:"Let's get you home."

"I'm serious."

"I know, Sorceress. I know. You have a kind heart. I know you will help us." 

Christine smiled.

"Shall we fly you home?" Thor suggested.

"No! I think I might be sick if we do!" Christine protested. 

And thus they walked. Thor made sure Christine got into her front door, before he turned to leave:"One more thing!" Christine called after him.

Thor turned to look.

"If Stephen ever comes back and if he lives a hundred or a thousand years and I die - please be his friend. Stephen is a nice guy and you are a nice guy, but he doesn't have many friends. He could use a nice friend like you. So if I ever die and he happens to be alive at the time - be there for him."

Thor nodded:"You are a noble woman, Sorceress. I'm sure The Wizard would mourn your loss as heavily as you mourn his."

Christine felt like he might cry: "Thank you, Thor. That is so nice. Thank you for everything," she said and turned to leave.

"If you ever need my help, all you have to do is ask," he heard Thor say behind her.

"Same!" she called and started a difficult road to the upper floor to her flat. 

It seemed that dream Stephen from the morning had been right about real Stephen being worried for him, because when she finally managed to get in the front door and stagger to the kitchen Stephen spoke to her: "Do you not take any days off at all anymore?"

She jumped a little again, took a moment to get what he meant and launched into an explanation. She didn't want him worried for her: "Sorry. I - some people are not handling all the deaths that have occurred all that well and others are - well, dead." She was mixing truth with lies, but what was she meant to say?  _Oh I wasn't at work, I was out drinking with Thor. Can you tell I'm wasted? Also, I' m a Sorceress now, I guess._

"Take some time off. You're pushing yourself too hard." She smiled, her heart warmed, maybe even more so because she was drunk. His concern was smoothing, like a medicine for her very soul. it was selfless, not mere politeness brought on by social protocol or a thinly veiled selfish hope that giving her a few days off would result in more productive work: "I'm fine. I'm better than most. I still have you. In a way." She felt like she could cry again and gave it her all to hold it back. 

"But you're also studying. It's too much."

"I have a few days off now. Spend them with me?" she asked, ridiculously hopeful. She knew it was selfish of her, to use his concern to blackmail him out of some time together, but she could not help it:"We can just chill," she added, sensing his indecision. She also thought she was slurring her words a bit, but Stephen didn't seem to notice. 

"I can't Christine. This is just a moment for me, but I shouldn't be doing this either. I'm just delaying my own death. It's unhealthy. I should stop." 

"It's normal not to want to die, Stephen," she said seriously: "I still have six days. Give me my six days," she demanded, feeling panic set in at the prospect of him possibly declining, fueled by her drunkedness. She hated when he spoke like this. He couldn't leave her. Not now. Not when she was drunk and vunerble and so close to actually being able to do real magic, to maybe kiss him and touch him and be by his side like an equal partner. 

"Okay. Just rest."

Christine relaxed:"I will. Tomorrow," she promised and then her thoughts went from selfishly wanting to keep Stephen to just wanting to make him feel good. He had that distressed look again. She didn't like it, but it did inspire her to study harder. She was determined to try some more magic when she got to the safety of her own bedroom, but the moment she got to her bed she simply fell asleep in an instant.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said there was going to be loads of Stephen in this chapter, but I rewrote this thing several times and then, out of the blue, Thor showed up and wanted to be in it. I hope you liked reading him, because I liked writing him. 
> 
> Next chapter should have loads more Stephen. I hope. 
> 
> However, I'm starting two jobs now starting this Monday. They are both writing related. So while I am very inspired to write this updates might be very slow.


	5. Days 9 to 11

The headache was expected, but wasn't at all welcomed. Christine groaned, turned in her bed and tried to think back on whether or not she had dreamt of Stephen that night. She didn't think she had. 

She lied on her white bedsheets until her headache faded away a bit and she thought Stephen wouldn't notice the massive hangover if she went to the kitchen. She lifted her hands in front of herself, staring at the ceiling as she recalled the night before. She still couldn't believe it. She hadn't even practiced the movements much, only read about them and yet, with Thor and the help of alcohol it had seemed so easy. 

She tried again, moving her hands the way she had the evening before. Nothing happened. She look a deep breath, concentrated, thought back on her studies and tried again. Still nothing. After a few more tries she became frustrated and decided it was a better use of her time to actually get out of bed and study the thing she wanted to learn, astral projection. 

She pulled on her white robe and went to the kitchen, made herself a cup of very strong coffee and sat down with her books. She wasn't sure if it was the hangover, but the magic seemed to be - gone. Last night when she had sat in the bar with Thor, she had truly felt like a sorceress, even if for a short while. She had felt the magic around her, had been able to yield it at her will. Now, if she closed her eyes and concentrated, all that was left was cold fear. She couldn't even say where it was coming from. She sat on her sofa, closed her eyes and thought of leaving her body and she felt like an idiot, like a completely normal, yet perhaps a delusional person. 

She tried some of the so called "simple exercises" in the books, but there was nothing - not even a spark of light leaving her fingers no matter how hard she tried and the weird thing was, it hardly surprised or even frustrated her. She knew magic was real and you could study it, she knew that last night she had made magical runes happen. She didn't doubt that. She had gone drinking with Thor and for a while she had been magical, but it was as if she had been a sorceress yesterday and only a woman today. As if Thor's belief in her had been the very thing that made her magical. She wondered if Stephen's presence, actual presence, not a ghost flying through time, would make her magical again. 

She looked at Stephen in the kitchen, a man who was clearly observing her, but for whom time moved too fast to catch any details:"I need you," she said, shocked at how desperate and full of emotion she sounded in the quiet room. 

"I need you to teach me and show me and I need  _you_ to talk about this stuff. I can't do any of it on my own. Without you I am simply doctor Christine Palmer, with you I might actually be a little bit magical, but I can't do this without you," she was quiet for a bit and turned her gaze to her book: "I can't imagine doing anything without you anymore. I mean - without having you around. I know there's going to have to be some time when you'll be dead for me and I fear it. I fear what my life will be without you in it and I fear... what if you never return Stephen? You say that I am the Christine in the one possible future timeline where you beat Thanos, where you come back to me, but how do I know I'm really that Christine, Stephen?"

"Are you - talking to me?"

Stephen's sudden decision to make time flow as normal surprised her, but also made her happy. She looked up at him and smiled warmly:"Yes."

"But I can't hear you when you speak to me while I turn forward time."

She grinned, smugly:"I know!" She really wasn't sure if she could tell Stephen half of the things she told him now if he could hear. It was oddly liberating, in a way, to talk to someone without being heard. 

"That's just unfair!" he protested:"...You should eat something."

She hadn't even thought about food, it seemed completely irrelevant compared to everything else, but she supposed Stephen was right: "Oh, Yes..." she agreed and got up to make food, feeling Stephen's comforting gaze on her as she moved.  _'You never worried about me so much before_ ', she thought, but didn't want to say.

She regretted not having said anything though the moment she realized Stephen once again couldn't hear him:"I really want to talk to you," she complained, but she already knew he couldn't hear her. 

It seemed her prayers were soon answered through as Stephen spoke:"Is this too much?"

"What is?" Christine asked.

"This, everything. This - thing I've dragged you into." 

"No, no, it's not, besides - I am the one who dragged you into it. I am the one who told you to stay," she pointed out.

"I suppose that's true," Stephen replied with a weak smile.

"What is it... is it too much for you?" Christine asked gently. 

"No, no of course not," Stephen's smile was sad:"It is but a moment for me, after all."

"You look sad," she noted:"You've been looking sad for a while now. Is it... is it the death thing?"

"Do you think it's something else?"

"Don't play games with me, Stephen!" Christine snapped, before she remembered it was in her lover's power to simply leave the conversation by moving time forward. He did just that and Christine expected that to be it. After all, they had done more talking that day than they had on many others. 

Christine decided she would try to do more magic today. After all, it had worked last night when she had been drunk with Thor. She didn't focus on the astral projection, even if that was what she wanted to do, she tried to redo the magic from the night before, but she wasn't sure how to go about it. It had just happened last night. She hadn't even been trying, reading books about magic she had understood that was a big part of it, but doing something without consciously trying to do it, when it was what you wanted to do was an impossible paradox for Christine. She tried astral projection again, but it seemed to work even less than it had on previous nights. Not that it had worked then. Eventually she gave up and went to sulk on the sofa, then she did some laundry, cleaned and tried again. The result was the same. 

"Am I just not getting it?" Christine asked herself. The kitchen table was covered in books, but she was no wiser. She went back to sulking on then, this time Stephen noticed:"What's wrong?"

Christine jumped:"Oh! Nothing!" she couldn't tell Stephen she was unable to do magic, he might leave before her two weeks was up then. 

"Are you sure?" Stephen didn't sound like he believed him. 

Christine considered for a moment and then told the truth: "I can't do it. I'm just not cut out for this..." she buried her face into a pillow. Would Stephen leave now? She wasn't sure how she could handle him actually dying. She didn't want to even try and think about it.

"It is hard, I think it would be very difficult to achieve anything in two weeks," Stephen said.

"I thought that I could, yesterday, when I was out with Thor, he was so empowering, he kept calling me Sorceress and then I  _could_ actually do it for a moment and I felt magic.  _I felt it and..._ "

"Hold on," Stephen cut him off:"You were out with Thor! I haven't even been dead for two weeks - I'm not even technically dead yet, not for me anyways and you're already  _dating Thor?!"_

Christine laughed:"Be serious, Stephen, we weren't - it wasn't a date. We were just coming from your funeral..."

"God, that's worse!" Stephen protested. 

Christine was still laughing. Was Stephen serious? She couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He couldn't have been:"We weren't dating! He was just very nice - not like that! Don't look at me like that! You're being ridiculous! He's a freaking God!"

"So what? He has dated human girls before. She was a doctor too!" 

"Oh My God, are you serious? Stephen I promise you it was nothing. You know it was nothing!"

Stephen seemed to relax a bit more and said, more agreeably:"All right, all right then."

"Anyway, I could do magic last night when I was wasted," she announced, returning back to her previous point. 

"You went  _drinking with Thor?_ That's stupid."

"It was fun. We had fun. He made me feel good." 

There was a bit of silence there and Christine almost thought Stephen had left her until he spoke again:"Do I not make you feel good?"

"You do, but you know, we haven't exactly done anything  _chill_ together in a while. It's all been very intense."

"We watched a movie just the other night!" he protested. 

"You didn't watch it. You sat on the sofa. In fact you  _closed your eyes."_

 _"_ Ah. You noticed that, did you? 

"Of course, I noticed! Time moves fine for me!"

Stephen considered;"We'll do something chill when I'm back."

"It's okay if we don't I still love you better than Thor," Christine teased. 

"Yeah, yeah, all right," Stephen said. He did not appear to be in a humorous mood. 

There was another long silence, but looking at Stephen Christine could tell he was still there:"How was the funeral?" he eventually asked. 

"Your father was a jerk to me."

"Yeah? What else is new? He's a jerk to everyone." 

"He suggested I put a spell on you! Called me a leech... and a witch," she recalled. She didn't really want to speak ill of Stephen's father, even if Stephen seemed fine with it, but it was weighing on her.

"That's ironic, all things considered."

"I guess. Thor nearly got in a fight over me."

"See, it's things like that that make me worried he's into you."

"He's not and even if he is - I'm into you. Not Thor, not Steve Rogers, you. Only you."

Stephen smiled a bit:"Yeah. I mean I suppose Thor has magic too, but compared to the rest of them I'm definitely the best." 

"Oh shut up," Christine bit and then instantly worried that Stephen might do and leave. 

Stephen was quiet for a bit, but then spoke again:"I could haunt him."

"What? Who?"

"My father. For calling you a leech."

"But I thought we established you're not technically dead."

"True, but he doesn't know that," Stephen pointed out with a grin. Christine tried not to smile back. She really wanted to say that this was a horrible terrible idea and really very mean and juvenile, but if she was honest, she kind of liked it, not that she said that either. Stephen's smile had disappeared while she had been trying to come up with an appropriate response and he seemed to be thinking about something serious now. Christine wished she could touch him, put a comforting hand on his knee. She couldn't so instead she asked:"What's wrong?"

"Do you think I should visit those other Christines?"

"Which other Christines?

"The ones in the other possible realities. The ones that will never see me again because I'll die. Permanently."

"No," Christine said instantly. She didn't even need a moment to think, she  _didn't think_ , the answer came instinctively. 

"You wouldn't want to see me one last time?" Stephen asked and his voice was so broken with emotion the tone alone, even without the context, was enough to bring tears into Christine's eyes:"No, if I was never going to see you again, saying goodbye like that - It would drive me insane. Not that life in a world without you wouldn't drive me insane normally, but God - it would be torture, sweet torture, yes, but torture all the same." 

"You don't mean that literally, do you?"

"Of course, I do!" Christine's voice was now filled with sadness too. 

"No, I mean the part about going insane. I - you wouldn't, would you? You  _could_ live without me, right?"

"Why must you ask me such horrible things, Stephen. It's not nice. It's cruel in fact."

"I know, but I want to know. I'd like to know that if I do die, if this reality will never exist anywhere else besides my head, that you will be all right."

"Of course I won't be  _all right Stephen, **you'll be dead!** " _Christine shouted:"And half the universe will be dead,  _Everyone will be dead. How can you come back from that?!"_

"I suppose," Stephen agreed quietly, 

"Is that what you wanted to hear now? Have I stroked your ego enough now?!" Christine sounded angry, but it was all superficial, inside she was still all sadness.

"No, it puts more pressure on me. It makes the stakes higher."

"Good," Christine said coldly, she looked Stephen straight in the eye as she spoke :"Because you better come back."

"But there is little I can  _do_ from this point on," he sounded frustrated. 

"Still," Christine wouldn't give in on this. 

They fell silent, another heavy and long pause was followed by Stephen's words:"I... There is something... You know I told you I've never looked into the futures to see if and how and in how many we stay happily together in?"

"Yes?"

"Well, once I got my time turning powers, I did look into some other possibilities. I - wanted to see what would have happened if I hadn't gotten in the accident, if I hadn't chosen to become the sorcerer I am now."

"And?"

"I saw many miserable futures," Stephen said grimly. Christine turned to look at him again, but Stephen wasn't looking at him:"They were different levels of miserable though. I mean I can't say I'm bursting with joy as it is," Christine barely managed a smirk at the joke:"I mean in some of them the Earth gets eaten by this.. monster I fought, it's a long story, but anyways, there are also those that don't have that and where I don't end up having magic in my life..."

"Stephen, you don't have to explain to me that choosing magic was the right choice for you, I know it was, I don't blame magic for all that happened, or God forbid you, I know that it's Thanos's fault."

"No - that's not - I had a different point."

"Okay, I'm listening."

Stephen waited to make sure she really was, before he continued:"Some of these futures were very sad and I - uhh - I gave up in some of them. took my own life and in some - I don't know how, but I managed to get you back or not drive you away. In some you were never there and in all of those, yes, I think all, I died, way before Thanos could even start, but in some of the ones you were in - I made it. I wasn't exactly happy, but I made it."

Christine was silent, trying to get her feelings under control, before she articulated a response.

"I know it sounds bad, but you literally made my life worth living."

"No I... I get that. I wasn't at all aware that you are suicidal, Stephen, Jesus."

"I'm not. Not me. I have you,"

Christine smiled a shaky smile:"No pressure there then. If I leave you, you'll kill yourself."

"Well, it's only fair. You put all that pressure on me just moments ago and you still have your choice, besides I didn't look into the realities where I am a sorcerer so, as unlikely as that is, there might be a reality where you leave me and I survive the heart ache."

Christine could tell he was joking and smiled:"I'm not planning on leaving."

"Good."

There was another pause, but by now Christine almost wasn't afraid Stephen would leave.

"How do you know about Thanos?" Stephen asked. 

"Thor told me."

"Ah."

"He invited me to join in on trying to defeat him."

"Don't even think about it," Stephen said seriously. 

"You don't think I could?"

"I know the one way to defeat him and you are not there fighting him."

"What am I doing?" Stephen didn't answer and Christine thought he had gone:"Stephen?"

"Still here."

"Do you think I could do magic?"

"You told me you could when wasted. It makes sense. Alcohol loosens you up."

"But sober?"

Stephen looked at him and smiled:"Of course you can. The potential is there. You just have to go and unlock it and  _not go and try fight Thanos with it."_

Christine smiled:"Promise I won't."

"Good."

"Did you come inside my dream?!" Christine asked suddenly.

"What?" 

"I had a dream, with you in it, except it didn't feel the way you usually are in my dreams. It felt  _real._ Is that possible or am I just going insane?"

"It is possible. I could be in your dream, but I wouldn't know, because that me is likely from the future."

"Ah, Yes, of course, that makes sense." It did. In a weird way.

She looked at Stephen and he was smiling at her:"You're quick to catch on."

"I have to be."

"Would you want me to come into your dreams?" Stephen asked, his voice was gentle and soft. It made Christine smile brightly:"Yes, please, you can come any time you'd like!"

"Even if you can't tell for sure it's me?"

"Yes. I like dreaming of you. And I think I could tell," that or she would go insane, but she didn't tell Stephen that.

"Maybe you could," he agreed:"I wonder when is that me from then if it is me. From when I'm alive again I suppose," Christine beamed at that suggestion, but then Stephen followed up with some darker ones:"But then I don't think you can go into the dreams that have passed. So it would have to be present, but I am presently dead, of course I have no idea what death is like."

"So you're saying it was likely not you after all?" Christine asked:"You did call yourself your past self," she remembered. 

"If you felt it was me, it might have been, don't dismiss your intuition, that is a big part of magic, learning it too."

Christine considered this:"I think I might try getting a bit drunk though and practice some more," she announced after a momentary pause. Stephen didn't answer any more and as Christine looked at him, she knew he was no longer there with her. She found a bottle of wine and emptied it, but magic didn't seem to come, maybe it required good mood as well and all that she felt at the moment was sadness and heaviness. She went to bed, hoping dream Stephen would be there. 

Instead her night was plagued with nightmares of Stephen killing himself. She would walk into the room and Stephen's body would be there, once he had hanged himself, once taken some pills, once stabbed himself, once Christine walked into the room, the air in it was icy cold, the window was wide open, Christine knew what had happened even before she approached the window.

"I shouldn't have told you, should have I?" a voice said, making her jump. She turned to look at the corner of the room where the voice had come from. There in the unnaturally dark corner, Stephen stood, the sorcerer version, not the poor sod who kept killing himself in those dreams. He even had his silly cloak:"I'm sorry," he said. Christine snapped awake, breathing heavily. Okay. She was  _not_ going back to sleep. 

She got out of bed and went to the living room:"Good morning, Stephen," she told the nearly unmoving statue of a man in her room:"I had some pretty freaky nightmares last night," she added, keen on starting on breakfast. Stephen didn't reply and the feeling of uneasiness didn't pass either. Christine watched Stephen's face as she ate. He didn't seem happy. It made her heart feel heavy. She cleaned a bit, but decided to go out later, buy some food, maybe that would lift her spirits. She kissed Stephen's cheek:"I'm going out for a tiny bit. Don't run off," she paused:"I love you," she said, because it was true. She loved Stephen. She watched the man a moment longer and rushed out. 

Christine got a large bottle of wine from the store to practice some more magic. It wasn't an excuse to get drunk, she assured herself. She was actually practicing magic. It had worked drunk the last time, so why not try again. She wondered if Stephen would disapprove when she came home and uncorked the bottle and went to sit by the books with her glass, but even if Stephen did disapprove, he didn't say anything about it. No real magic happened that day, but at least Christine felt loose and more relaxed and ready to go to bed when night came. 

She needed that looseness, because Stephen was once again in his dreams. This time it didn't seem to be a suicide nightmare. Christine woke, pressed next to a clean-shaven, handsome surgeon of a man she had come to recognize as Dream Stephen. Their bodies were pressed closed together and it was good for about a minute, staring into the man's pale beautiful blue eyes, before she realized she was dreaming and instantly wanted out of bed. 

"Stay. It's cold out there," The Dream said and tried to kiss Christine. She pulled the blankets back and got out of bed. It  _was_ cold. Why was it cold? Had she left the window open in her bedroom? She marched into the living room angrily, to do what she was not sure, maybe to get away from the Dream Stephen, but he seemed to follow her anyway.

"I don't get it," he pouted:"You always said you wanted me to come to a cottage with you over the weekend. Now I'm here."

"That's precisely the point," Christine muttered. She turned to look at the Dream Stephen to tell him to back off and noticed there was another Stephen sitting on the little sofa in the cold front room. This one was wearing the red cloak again and had a beard. He looked around himself:"This scenery is nicer. Although you don't seem to like it."

"I know it's fake, that's the problem," Christine explained. She set to make coffee. Even if it wasn't real she didn't mind dreaming about having some.

"Then can't you just wake up?"

"There is no reason to wake up now. You're here," she said:"Coffee?"

"Yes, thank you. What's so special about me?" 

Christine turned to look over her shoulder to look at Stephen's expression:"You're real."

"And how do you know that?" Stephen challenged.

"Just a gut feeling. You told me to go with my gut. And dreams usually deny that they are dreams,"

Stephen hummed:"So - when are you? Has Thor been to your workplace yet?"

"What? No. Is he going to!?" Christine asked, bringing them both a cup of coffee. 

"If he does that would certainly seem like proof that I am real," Stephen commented with a sad smile.

"Are you doubting that you are?" Christine laughed, but Stephen's expression remained solemn:"What?  _Are you?!"_

Stephen thought it over for a moment:"No, but it is difficult to hold on to myself sometimes. Outside the confides of your dream life without my body is difficult."

"Don't you mean death?" Christine pointed out:"Isn't this what you are now? Technically?"

"Do I look dead to you?" Stephen asked seriously, so seriously, that Christine nearly burst out crying.

"No," she admitted:"I don't really want to think about it. It makes me feel sick and sad and terrified and all kinds of terrible," she thought about it for a while, then said, quietly:"Tell me what it's like."

Stephen laughed:"I thought you didn't want to think about it."

She didn't, not really, well, maybe she was a little curious, but she mostly thought that maybe Stephen would like to get things off his chest. 

Stephen sighed:"It's odd. You'd think - well - I always thought that I would know when I'm dead, or well, I rather thought I wouldn't know anything, because I'd be dead, but now, I wonder if I'm really dead, in which case - heads up - death sucks or if I'm still in some sort of limbo, waiting for my faith to be sealed, to come back to life or to disappear completely." 

"Please don't disappear completely," Christine said. 

"It's not my call to make," Stephen said, his words scaring Christine awake. 

Damn. God Damn it. She wasn't going to get any answers if she scared herself awake like that. Groaning she got herself out of bed and went to the kitchen. Stephen was staring into the emptiness as was usual for them these days. Christine smirked. So this was what had become normal for them? Well, she wasn't complaining. She had a handsome ghost in her kitchen:"So Day 11, huh? I've got three more days to go. Better get serious about it," she joked. She moved to make herself an omelette, cause she felt like she wanted one, while still talking:"I had another weird dream about you. I think it was you. Real you. Again." 

She ate her breakfast, wolfing it down to make it to work in time, grabbed her coat and keys and then went to Stephen to say goodbye. She pressed her lips against his invisible cheek and said:"Good bye, my ghost boy. Have a nice day. I love you." She stood there, grinning. Stephen would never know and it would be a bit cruel to tell him now, when he thought he might go to his death, but she knew. She was sure now, no longer a hint of doubt in her mind and it needed to be said out aloud. Again. Maybe every day until he was here. And then when he returned too. Because he would. He had to. She rushed out a moment later. 

The hospital was buzzing, even more than usual, then, suddenly out of nowhere one nurse threw herself over Christine:"Palmer, you dog!"  
  
"Huh?" Christine muttered, confused, but there was already another doctor congratulating her, for what, remained a mystery for Christine still:"That's a good girl! Moving on in the time of crisis! Stephen's gone - better take the next Avenger. Plenty of them out there still. Besides, if you ask me Thor's hotter anyways."

"What? Girls what is going on here? I'm not - What are you talking about?"

"Thor was here yesterday!" One of the nurses explained excitedly:"It's a shame you weren't here to witness it he was awesome! Telling Nick to be proper and treat you with respect." 

Christine thought back to her drinking night with Thor. Had she complained about Nick? Oh, yeah. She might have and Thor  _had_ said something about defending her honour. What do you know. He had been serious:"You girl's have it wrong. Thor and I are just friends." There was a sentence she never thought she would utter:"He was just consoling me after the funeral."

The reaction of the two nurses was that more suited for teenage school girls:"Ooh, He was _consoling_ you!" 

"Not like that!" Christine protested. God. 

Much as expected the rest of the day was spent juggling patients and trying to kill off the the rumours about Thor and her. She tried to track down Nick, to apologize and say Thor might have gone a little far, but the man avoided her like plague. When she saw him literally  _running away from her in fear_ to the other side of the hallway Christine decided she could leave it and come back to it in a few days. She felt bad about the whole thing, but if she was honest she would have liked to have been there to see it. She smirked and wondered if that made her a bad person. 

"You won't believe the day I've had!" Christine exclaimed, walking into her flat and throwing her coat on the sofa:"Well I wouldn't tell you if you were listening, I think you'd get jealous, but - ," she paused, stopping in her tracks. Stephen looked odd. He looked - shocked, confused maybe. Christine looked around herself. Had something happened in the flat? It all looked normal to her:"What happened?" she asked Stephen. She didn't get a reply and it wasn't as if she had been expecting one, but that expression on Stephen's face was distracting. So distracting in fact that when she took out her books to study she had to look up every now and again to see if the expression was gone. During one such time, in the middle of the exercise, Christine looked up at Stephen, all serious:"What's wrong, love?" And suddenly she both felt and saw sparks fly at her fingertips. Encouraged, she kept up eager practicing for hours still. She saw a few more sparks, but nothing else. And really. She wasn't any closer to astral projection at all with this. Disappointed and worried for Stephen she headed for bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took ages. My work is writing related now so I find less need to write creatively, but I still sometimes do and I have the whole thing mapped up in my head, there will be at least one more chapter, but I actually have enough ideas for two.


	6. The last day and the one after that

Christine didn't even bother doing much in her dream. To be fair, she hadn't known she had a choice in the matter before, but as things were right now she simply lied on the grass of her dream and waited for the real Stephen to show up. The dream version was sitting there under a tree going through a medical journal, but Christine had no interest in him and as he didn't seem to be coming over to talk either, she just lied there, watching the clouds. Waiting. The scenery didn't matter, this was all just waiting. She might have as well been in a hotel lobby. 

Then she actually _was_ in a hotel lobby. Well, what do you know. She could control her dreams now. Was that because she had been practicing magic and this came with or was it a coincidence or was it because she had another person in her dreams now? She noticed the said other person standing in the far corner of the lobby staring at her. How she knew it was really him she didn't know, but she did know it was. She motioned him to join her. He did.

"I would have thought after last time you wouldn't want me around," he said.

"I always want you around," she replied. 

"Thank you." He looked around the lobby:"Your dreams are nice. Solid. They look like the world, well, they look like our world."

"What's the world you're currently in like?" Christine asked, trying to sound curious and light.

"I don't want to scare you awake again," Stephen said. 

"Ah. Just make me worried sick then? Have me think about it all day?"

"How much do you remember when you wake up?" he asked. 

"Everything. I remember almost everything. Way more than with normal dreams anyway."

"Impressive," Stephen said and Christine wondered which of them or what exactly he was impressed with.

"Do I manage?"

Stephen frowned:"Do you manage?"

"To do the astral projection thing." 

"I don't think I should be spoiling the future for you." 

" _Oh, come on!_ " 

"I'm serious. It might change the outcome. You might try too hard. Or not hard enough."

"So.. Yes?" she pressed, but it was clear Stephen wouldn't budge. 

Christine sighed and returned to the darker themes:"Go on then. Tell me what it's like out there?"

"Dark. It really is like a void of some sort. There is... nothing, but you - I mean me - I'm still there, in a way, but not really, I have no body and my consciousness is... it's like a fragment of a consciousness really. Your dreams give me shape, a body, a form, coherent thought. Without them I'm like a passing thought in vast empty space."

That sounded dark indeed. Poetic, but dark. Well, at least she was still asleep: "So you don't choose to come here?"

"I do. It's difficult to explain, but I could at least choose to leave. If you wanted to... Do you wa -"

"You know I don't," Christine cut Stephen off, rather forcefully. 

"Good," Stephen was silent, staring at the suit Christine's dream had given her. It was an ugly brown colour and the muddled dusty pink tone of the tie made it look even worse. She changed the suit to a dark navy one instead, made the tie a sort of nice creamy off-white. Now Stephen looked like he was going to a wedding. She looked around and - what do you know - they seemed to be at a wedding dinner. She wondered whose wedding it was. Ohh. The bride was there. Seemed like Sandra from work. Well, it didn't really matter. It was too crowded here, she wanted to be somewhere more private, like an office? No. They were in an office. It felt too clean, clinical and formal. Looked like Stephen was his boss. Oh. She was in office attire too. But she didn't want this. No. She wanted a... restaurant. Yeah. A quiet restaurant. The scenery changed again, Stephen watched it change with a quizzical look:"Are you always able to do that in your dreams?"

"No. This is new. I was thinking it might be, because of you. Or because I'm studying magic. "

"Could be either," Stephen conceded. 

Christine shrugged and they fell silent again. She had a feeling Stephen wanted to tell her something, get something off his mind, so she didn't try to lighten the mood or flirt, she waited. 

"Sometimes I fear I'll forget hour to speak, or think, or... how to be me. I don't feel like me when I'm not here."

"That would be romantic, if it wasn't terrifying," Christine said and snapped awake. 

"Damn it, Christine! Get your shit together!" she shouted at herself. She got out of bed in a rush. She needed to wake up in an hour anyway. No use going back to sleep. She might as well try to study. After all Stephen hadn't said if she will succeed or not, but it had sounded more like a yes than a no to her. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

In the end Christine had decided to go for a proper breakfast and by the time she was finished eating it, she needed to hurry, to make sure she got dressed for work in time. She would thankfully have her days off after this to make up for all the extra hours she had been doing recently. She had had a few days off already, but really she felt she could do with a few more. Of course she wouldn't spend them resting and relaxing. She would study, study to be able to be closer to Stephen. Stephen, oh Stephen. The man still had that weird expression on his face. It still worried Christine. He should have asked dream Stephen about it. Just as Christine was thinking about her dream she heard Stephen mumble something, for a moment she thought she had imagined it, but as she turned to look at Stephen she could see from the look in his eyes that he was here. She still had no idea what he had said though, so she rather inelegantly said:"Huh?" 

"What day is it?!" Stephen snapped at her. Christine jumped at his tone. Something was definitely wrong. Stephen seemed to have realized that he had sounded much too harsh, because he added:"I get a little mixed up," much more apologetically. 

"It's Friday. Um - Day 12. I still have two to go," she smiled. Stephen better not be thinking of leaving. 

"Ah," Stephen replied. He didn't really look like Christine's answer had given him any peace of mind. What was going on:"You okay?" Christine asked. 

"Yes," Stephen replied, but he didn't sound too confident and Christine wasn't sure if she believed him. 

"Are you sure? You've had this weird look for a while now," she pointed out, but Stephen's eyes had glazed over once more. Christine sighed. She needed to get to work. Once she had gotten ready and was about to walk out, she paused. She hadn't kissed his boyfriend. His crazy, lovely boyfriend who was driving her nuts. She stepped up to him and pressed her lips against his, where they seemed to be, but where she couldn't feel them Still, she closed her eyes as she did:"Good bye," she said, pulling back. 

"Have a good day. Don't overwork," Stephen replied. 

Christine blushed. Stephen was here. Mentally. Had he not left at all? No. She was sure he had. Had he come back because he had noticed the kiss? "Right, er, thank you," she said and left. Stephen still looked confused as she did. She wondered if she should have pressed on the matter. Asked again if he was okay. 

Christine had a hard time getting Stephen out of her head during work and the fact that she only had a few days left, before Stephen would leave. She didn't want to think about the Stephen leaving part, so she focused on the astral projection part, before remembering that she was supposed to focus on her patients and pushing everything on the back of her mind to make sure she was working efficiently. 

She got her books out as soon as she made it home. Right. No more fooling around. No more playing with sparkles or getting distracted reading other chapters. This was serious now. She tried to focus, relax, follow the instructions in the book. She could feel it. She was right there, right on the edge of getting there. Of course, she had been there before, it was the matter of getting her over that edge, out of her body. She focused. _Maybe she needed a glass of wine to do this?_ No. Drinking felt like cheating. Besides, it hadn't helped before.  _Tea? No, no tea either._ She just needed to get herself together and do this. _Focus, Christine. Focus. Feel it. You can do it. You can feel it. It's possible. It can be done. You know it can. Stephen is doing it right now. But damn, tea might be just the thing..._ she sighed and opened her eyes. Okay. Tea. She would make tea and  _then_ she would get really serious about it. Christine got up, went to the kitchen and brewed some tea for herself. Then she went back to the sofa and sat there, reading the book and sipping her tea. She had just finished, had put her cup away and closed her eyes once more when Stephen chose that moment to speak.

"I lied," Christine jumped. What? What was he saying?

"Huh?"

"In the morning, when you asked if I was fine. I said I was. I lied. I can't do this anymore."

Christine felt her heart sink. No. No, no, no, no. He couldn't back out now, just _no._ He couldn't do this? _She_ couldn't do  _this._ She couldn't lose him. Not yet. (Not ever if she was honest.) She could see from his eyes that he meant it, but he had promised her two more days, so she couldn't help, but open her mouth to argue: "It's just two more days and I have tomorrow off and I feel so close - "

"I can't!" His piercing shout scared her into silence. The flat was completely still for a few moments and then Stephen launched into an explanation that poured out of him as if a dam had been broken:"I can't watch you fly by me like that. I can't stand standing still in your life while you fly by me. Only getting glimpses. I can't. I thought I was strong enough. I thought this was better than - not having it at all and I guess it is, but it still hurts and I can't take it. It's too much. I need to go and do what I have to do."

The truth was Christine barely heard the words, because it didn't matter what Stephen was saying, she could see it in his eyes that he was suffering, hear it in the tone of his voice. The explanation didn't matter. She didn't want Stephen to suffer, Not for her and not ever. So she said as calmly and warmly as she could manage:"Okay. Okay. That's okay, Stephen."

"Is it?" his voice was soft now, surprised. Why was he so surprised?

"Yes, I thought this was what you wanted..." That was true too, in a way, she had started out doing this thinking it was what he wanted, but she wanted it too and lately she had been thinking more about herself, about what she wanted and the thought made her feel terribly guilty. 

Stephen must have heard the sadness and the guilt and the hurt in his voice, because he said:"It is, I do want to be with you. I don't want to let go and leave and think that this is probably the last time I'll ever see you. But this - this is just stretching out my final moments. I can stretch them, but that's still all they are, just final moments." 

"I know, this isn't really living. But it's better than death," Christine said and she felt selfish and desperate and she hated herself, because how cruel was she? She could see Stephen was suffering and yet she was still holding on to those last threads, trying to make him stay, trying to prolong his suffering, just because she wanted him to be there. Just because she knew she would break into a million pieces the moment he was gone. 

"Yes. I do love being with you in any kind of form and it's better than nothing, but it's still... awful. I'm sorry." God. He was so perfect. Stephen was just perfect, saying all these nice things. Trying to make her feel better "being with you in any kind of form is better than nothing", how romantic was that?

Christine knew then that she had to let Stephen go, so she said:"It's okay."

"Is it really?" 

"Yes, of course. Like you said, if this is happening for me then I'm lucky, because that means we'll probably win," she was really trying to comfort herself more than Stephen. There was a huge part of her that was still terrified Stephen would never be back. Her mouth opened without her thinking about it and yet more words came out. "I just wanted you to have something nice to... go on... A proper kiss." Damn. That was cruel. She really needed to stop making him feel bad. 

Yet, despite her last words Stephen actually seemed to relax. That made her feel a little better. "You are an extraordinary woman Dr. Christine Palmer. You really don't have a selfish bone in your body," Stephen said and Christine couldn't help but think that Stephen had no idea how wrong he was. Still, she could try lightening the mood a bit so she smiled and said:" I know."

"Although I'd be lying if I said I haven't enjoyed having you here. In some form or another," she added more seriously. Damn. It seemed she just couldn't keep her mouth shut. Oh God, this was it, wasn't it? Well, she wasn't going to let Stephen go without a kiss of _some sort._ So she walked up to him, pressing her lips against thin air shaped like Stephen. She almost told him she loved him, before she remembered she still hadn't told him that while he was here consciously. Now certainly wasn't the right time to do it:"Good luck. When you come back teach me more about this astral projection," she said instead, even if that knowledge would be a lot less useful then.  

"I will," Stephen promised:"Good Bye," he said and suddenly he was gone. That was it. It was over. Stephen was really gone. Christine fell to her knees and wept. 

She cried there for what felt like ages until she remembered she had one more way to see her dead boyfriend. Dreams. Yes, all she had to do was go to bed and fall asleep and dream and the not-dead, but not-alive real Stephen would be there. She practically ran to her bathroom to brush her teeth to head to dreamland. 

Sleep didn't come easy, but when it did it was actually worse. Her dream was a dull aching pressing darkness. There was no light anywhere. Just Christine floating weightless in an empty space and all that would have been fine even, had Stephen been there, but he wasn't. Christine tried to change her surroundings, make things appear, but nothing worked. She had no control over this dream. Over this nightmare. She woke breathless, gasping for air and covered in sweat. 

They called her in for work the next day, because they were that short of staff and a few people had fallen ill and even though it was supposed to be her day off she went without a complaint. She couldn't stay in the flat without Stephen. It was awful. For the first time she felt like she was truly in mourning for him. She suspected she looked like it too, hoped her colleagues thought it had only just "hit her now" as they said. Well, what else could they think anyways? That Christine had had an astral projection version of her boyfriend in her kitchen this whole time? She smirked bitterly at the thought. 

It was dark and quiet in the hospital when Christine finally finished and was forced to go to her horrible cold empty flat. Getting her coat on she suddenly heard a man scream.  Christine looked at the direction of the scream and saw Nick running towards her, looking terrified. Then he saw Christine and seemed to decide to change directions and ran the other way. Christine went after him:"Nick! What's wrong? What happened?!"

"Stay away from me, you demon women!" 

"Why? What happened?" Christine almost felt like laughing. _Demon woman, really?_

"What is wrong with you? First Thor and now Stephen - "

"Stephen? Stephen's dead, Nick!"

"I know! I know his dead and yet that dead bastard is in my office, all glowing and transparent like a ghost..."

Christine didn't listen any more. She was running towards Nick's office, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoing in the darkened empty corridor:"Stephen!" she cried, just in case the man would hear him and thus wait a little longer. She didn't care what anyone else thought. There was barely anyone in anyways:"Stephen!" She threw the door of Nick's office open with a bang:"Stephen!" 

Stephen stood there, quite clear to see in the darkness, he smiled:"Christine. I thought it was your day off."

"It was, but the called me in and... you're not here anymore, so there's no point in taking a day off." 

Stephen frowned:"That's not a very healthy attitude."

Christine snorted:"You're  _dead_ , Stephen and you just thought I would shrug it off and move on with life?!"

"I've been dead for 12 days already."

"This is different! You know it is!" Christine shouted. She didn't want to shout at Stephen, but why did he have to tease her like that? This was not the time. Tears rose into Christine's eyes:"I didn't even dream of you last night," she said, quieter, sounding like she was about to cry. 

Stephen seemed to look like he was at a loss for words:"I'm sorry? I might still be in your dreams in the future. Maybe it was just this one night. For whatever reason."

Christine stared at the floor below her feet:"I thought you left. I thought you couldn't take this anymore."

"Well, I did leave, but then I saw the battlefield and I thought ... I could just take one more moment. Freak West out, get a bit of petty revenge. He'll think twice, before he flirts with you again."

"I think Thor already handled that," Christine muttered, but she was smirking. 

"Thor? What did _Thor_ do?"

"He came here and told Nick to treat me with respect or something. I don't know. I had my day off."

"Oh, come on!" Stephen groaned:"Are you sure he's not trying to hit it off with you?"

Christine smiled:"I am pretty sure and even if he is interested, I'm not..."

"That's what you say now..."

Christine rolled her eyes:"Come on. I'm the one who should be offended - you chose  _Nick_ as the last person you see before you die, not me."

"Ah. I didn't think of it like that," Stephen admitted:"But now that you put it like that, that is terrible, unforgivable. But you're here now, so we've managed to fix that mistake."

Christine met Stephen's eyes and found the man was smiling at her slightly:"Yeah," she agreed.

"So..." Stephen began.

"Can I try it one more time?" Christine cut in:"the astral projection thing?"

"Christine..." 

"Right now, right here, just this once more..."

Stephen sighed a little, but smiled:"Yes. If you'd like."

Christine smiled and nodded:"Thanks," she closed her eyes:"Just give me a moment," she knew everything she needed to do. She had read the chapters several times. She didn't need the books anymore. She just needed to do this. She took a deep breath.  _Don't be afraid. You've got nothing to lose and so much to gain. This is your last chance. No, don't get nervous. Relax, it's fine._

"One sec."

"I'll wait," Stephen said, he sounded amused now and that irked Christine a bit.  _Relax. Calm down. He will wait for you._ Christine centered herself, focused and let go. Suddenly it wasn't that hard to tip over the edge anymore, it just happened, for a moment she was scared, she felt a cold flash rush through her, but that was only for a moment and then she was floating. 

"Wow," she heard Stephen say. She was staring at the ceiling so she turned herself around to look at the man better. He looked truly shocked:"I didn't expect you'd..."

" _Oh Come on, Stephen! Really?!"_

"I don't mean in general I just meant, to get it right now... seemed like you'd be under a lot of pressure." 

Christine smiled:"Well, now is also when it mattered the most."

Stephen floated closer to her, carefully making his way towards her, before pressing their lips together. This time she could actually feel it, the pressure of them, their warmth and softness. They floated there and kissed and kissed and kissed, slowly, lovingly, gently. 

Then, eventually Stephen pulled back:"Was it worth it?"

Christine didn't know if they were talking about the kiss and the two weeks it took to practice and have him in her kitchen or if Stephen meant something more, if he was worth all the pain he kept putting her through. It didn't really matter, the answer was same regardless:"You're always worth it."

Stephen smiled and kissed Christine's nose gently, her forehead, her lips:"I think I'm ready now."

"I don't think I'll ever be ready," she admitted. 

Stephen just gave her one more gentle kiss:"Good bye. See you soon."

"Good luck," Christine said and just like that Stephen vanished, leaving Christine floating there. It took her a while to remember how to get back to her body, she hadn't been focusing on that part that much in her studies, but she figured it out eventually. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually happened! Bet you thought I would never finish this! I sure did, but then the "Endgame" drew nearer and I realized I wanted to get this done before the film! And I did! Now you have a whole month to read it. I hope it will be good to read after the film too. I hope it will fit with the canon, but I guess we'll see. We'll see if I'll want to write something new after the new film. 
> 
> This was originally supposed to be two chapters, but then I made it into one big one and I think it works like this. I hope the flow and pace is good. I can't tell anymore.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for sticking around Thank YOU for reading and a very special thanks to BearlyMadeIt. I wouldn't have made it without your support (see what I did there?) Now go read her awesome stuff!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading thus far!


End file.
